


The Ghosts Between Us

by Skye_Willows



Series: Here's To The Heartbreakers [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (Well its up to you how temporary), Alcoholism, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, HankCon Reverse Big Bang, Love Realisation, M/M, Misguided Rejection, Multiple Endings, Poor Connor Gets Messed Up, See further tags in Ending Chapters, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, android gore, emotional breakdowns, memory transference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-23 10:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20890610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_Willows/pseuds/Skye_Willows
Summary: Connor deserves better than him; that's what Hank tells himself when he rejects Connor's advances.But when Connor is cruelly snatched from him and Hank loses the only person he's loved since losing Cole, he realises just how wrong he was in turning Connor away - and he's not sure he's braced for the consequences.Hankcon Reverse Big Bang fic based of the art of the amazing boisteruse!





	1. Misguided

**Author's Note:**

> **OMG IT'S FINALLY HERE!**
> 
> Holy cow, here's my third Big Bang of the year and I hope you're all braced for another heartbreaker (not entirely my fault this time though!) I was fortunate enough to work with the utterly amazing [Ruse](https://twitter.com/boisteruse), who drew a devastating piece that just sang to my sadistic heart haha. So, this idea is their fault! 
> 
> (Well, the image was. The story which follows we share the blame for, I apologise in advance for whatever tears emerge!)
> 
> As you've seen above, there are some pretty heavy going tags and I will warn you all as we reach the relevant chapters what is coming. This is going to get dark and emotional before the end. Speaking of which, it's going to be up to you guys which ending you get! You'll see what I mean when we get there. I'll be updating this every couple of days as we get to the finale chapters so you won't have to wait long between updates!
> 
> So, without further ado, let the agony begin!

“Hank, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Depending on who those words came from, they could strike fear into Hank’s heart or cause him great annoyance. Given that they came from Hank’s partner and closest friend, it was leaning more on the fear side. “Sure, what’s bothering you, Connor?”

In all honesty, Hank had known that something was up with Connor for a while now. The android had been a little more reserved for about a month now and had been slowly withdrawing into himself. Hank had subtly been trying to bring him back out of his shell, but with very limited success. Connor would always seem like his normal snarky self, quick on the barbs and sharp as a tack in the field when Hank would converse with him…but that involved Hank starting the conversation.

Connor rarely did it himself beyond their caseload and had been spending less time with the lieutenant at his house. That in itself should have been an alarm bell since the android adored Sumo more than anyone, but it had been a steady decline so Hank had not really been too worried. Since moving closer to the other androids months ago, Hank had been aware that Connor would become more involved with the community and begin hanging out with them.

It was natural, it was how it should be; that didn’t stop Hank from missing Connor desperately. He often found himself looking back to the days of when the android stayed with him and missing the easy life they shared.

Hank would never mention that to Connor though – it was his own life, and the android had better things to do and people to spend his time with. Connor shouldn’t be hanging around with a middle-aged drunk if he didn’t have to.

Which was why the question caught Hank so off-guard. Well, less the question and more the tone. He could swear that Connor sounded _nervous_: and after Hank replied, it way evident from the look on Connor’s face that he was.

“Would you mind terribly if I came over to discuss the matter with you?” Connor asked a little shyly. “It’s not a workplace appropriate topic and I am very aware of our colleagues around us waiting for any updates on our case.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah we can do that,” Hank said in reply while looking down at the case notes in front of him. “Let’s finish up this map and get our surveillance layout for tomorrow sorted first? Pass on all the info before we grab an early night? It’s going to be a long one tomorrow anyway.”

Connor acknowledged the decision with a nod and Hank realised that something was badly playing on Connor’s mind from how his LED flickered from yellow to red. “Hey, Connor, are you sure you want to wait? We can talk about this now if you-”

“No!” Connor’s outburst stunned both of them and the android let out a strained sigh before looking at Hank again. “I’m perfectly fine, Lieutenant, and our discussion can wait until this work is completed.”

“Your LED going fire red says otherwise, Con.” Suddenly aware of the fact, Hank scowled as Connor abruptly forced it back to blue. “Yeah, I’m not buying that: something’s definitely on your mind.”

Looking up at the older man, Connor’s nerves showed through a little more. “Please trust me on this, Hank? This isn’t something to be tackled now and I need a little more time to get my courage up. Will you allow me that?”

_Courage? What the fuck does he want to ask me?_

Realising that he was simply winding Connor up, Hank backed down with a nod. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, Con. Yes, we can do that. I’ll take you back with me to mine and we can talk there, okay?”

A small smile came to Connor’s face. “That’s quite all right, Hank. Thank you…I promise I’ll explain everything when we’re finished. Now, shall we try and get this network locked in?”

Even though they went back to work the conversation was never far from Hank’s mind: he couldn’t begin to work out what Connor could possibly want to discuss that was so sensitive. Nerves settled inside his stomach and he tried to block them from his attention, but it was a losing battle.

He looked up at Connor again and spied the android was hard at work again, but the LED continued to slicker between yellow and red now that Connor wasn’t concentrating on keeping it blue.

_Con, what the hell is up with you?_

* * *

It took another two hours, but eventually the pair of them decided they had done all that they could in preparation for their surveillance op the next day. For months now they had been tracking a group of what they had assumed were simple red ice dealers and suppliers, but they’d recently discovered evidence that they may also be involved in the desecration of android corpses to harvest thirium for the distilling process.

In an effort to finally bring it all to a close, Fowler had ordered them to get surveillance footage of the group at work so that they could bring everyone in. Hank and Connor had been left in charge of ensuring it happened and were now ready for the operation itself the next day. Three of the police androids (including Connor) would be sneaking into the textiles factory that seemed to be a front for the drug ring to get footage while several officers hovered around in unmarked cars, ready to go on at the signal. It was a precarious situation which put all the androids at extreme risk, but they were working with limited options. All of them had volunteered to go inside, knowing the risks.

Not that it loosened the knots in Hank’s stomach any. He hated the thought of Connor being in there pretty much on his own if everything went to shit with backup needing to fight their way in.

Still, that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now he was trying not let his nerves show through with regard to whatever Connor wanted to talk about.

Pulling up to the house, Hank noted that Connor’s LED had yet to shift off yellow and his unease about the whole situation ratcheted up again. Unlocking the door, Sumo looked up in vague disinterest but he perked up as Connor entered. The large St Bernard wandered through and woofed gently at the android, who bent down to give him some heartfelt pets. His LED cycled back to blue for a few moments and it made Hank smile softly.

Connor looked gorgeous when he smiled like that.

Hank went through and grabbed himself a glass of water (behaving since Connor was round: he’d managed to cut back a little on the drink but it was still a large part of his life), and leant back against the counter as Connor continued to shower Sumo with affection. As much as he could watch that all day, Hank wanted to clear the air with Connor first. “So, uh, what was it you wanted to speak to me about, Con? Must be something big since your LED has only been yellow or red all day.”

Said LED started flashing between those two colours again and Hank noted the mechanical stiffness of Connor’s movements. Whenever Connor was stressed he defaulted back to his ‘machine’ tendencies, and Hank hated it every time. “Hey, whatever it is, don’t freak out about it so much, okay?” Hank said while putting his drink down. “This ain’t earthshattering news or anything like that, is it? I’d guess you would have told me something horrendous at the station earlier.”

Realising what he was doing, Connor forced himself to ease as best he could but he stayed in the opposite half of the kitchen, just next to the table. Hank’s scowl deepened at the distance and he was half caught off-guard when Connor spoke up. “It certainly…has the potential to redefine our relationship, and will have consequences regardless of the outcome.”

“Huh?” Hank was thoroughly confused now. “Con, what the hell are you saying? What could you possibly tell me that has such far-reaching effects?” Connor’s LED was stuck on red now and Hank felt his stomach clench unpleasantly – this couldn’t be good news. “Is something wrong with you? Are you all right?”

Connor looked up again and smiled at Hank softly. “I’m fine, Hank, this isn’t anything along those lines. I’m…” A small blush came to Connor’s cheeks but he didn’t try and hide it, which made Hank’s heart skip a little. “I came to somewhat of a realisation some time ago, and with it I decided to ignore this fact to maintain the status quo. In doing so, however, I realised that I was simply evading a truth that defines part of who I am, and I need to redress that issue before I can truly learn to either embrace it or move on. This limbo is not productive to me.”

Hank blinked once, then twice. That was…a whole heap of nothing. “Want to try that again in English, Connor?”

The android realised what he’d done and sighed – he’d picked up quite a few human mannerisms now – before looking at Hank openly. “Hank, I…I’ve discovered that I’m attracted to you. It’s not just an appreciation of your appearance, it’s-it’s everything about you. Your actions, words, personality, quirks…You as a person. I’m drawn to you unlike anyone else. I just-I had to tell you, and I…” Connor hesitated a little. “I wondered if you felt the same way?”

Talk about blindsided: of all the things that had been swimming through Hank’s head, that wasn’t one of them. His heart was leaping in joy but his head was in anguish. This was a dream and a nightmare rolled all into one.

As much as Hank did share Connor’s feelings (he’d known for a long time that he had a very _raw _appreciation for the android’s beauty both inside and out), he’d long ago sworn never to get so close to anyone again. Hank couldn’t survive another heartbreak, losing his family had broken him down to the last shreds of himself. The ghosts of Cole still haunted him too deeply.

Connor had been the one to rebuild him to even this fragile shell, rather than just pieces vaguely related though misaligned. If it all went wrong…that would be it, no more chances.

He couldn’t take that risk, not to mention that Connor deserved someone vibrant and more alive. Not an old man who was liable to bark, bite and lash out on his bad days; Connor had been on the wrong side of that too often. As a friend the damage was enough, but to do that to a romantic partner?

No, he couldn’t do it – as much as his heart might be rebelling, this was best for both of them.

“Con, I…This isn’t right for either of us. You’re an android and I’m an old human – there are much better matches out there for you,” Hank said carefully, refusing to lie to Connor. He wouldn’t tell the android that he didn’t feel the same way, but by the same token he couldn’t say it. That would just confuse Connor even more.

Hank’s heart squeezed at the shutter that fell over Connor’s face. Within a second he could see how crushed the android was. “I suspected this might be your response – I’m sorry, Hank, I shouldn’t have said anything.” The android was turning away and Hank tried to close to distance, make sure that Connor wasn’t getting the wrong idea.

_What other way to take this is there than you rejected him, you motherfucking idiot? _a spiteful internal voice hurled at him, but Hank ignored that in favour of walking up to Connor.

“Hey, Con, look- There’s a lot of things to be taken into consideration here. We’re work partners, I’m a human and you’re an android. Not to mention that I’m not going to be around for long cause of all the shit I’ve put myself through,” Hank told him with a slight plead in his voice. “This isn’t just as simple as whether I feel the same in return or not, there’s…”

Except Hank could see that Connor’s LED had stopped spinning now: it was simply a solid red, glaring and angry while at the same time slightly dim, as if melancholy.

_Fuck, Con, I’m just trying to take the better path for both of us. I’m way too fucking broken to be what you need, as much as I wish I could be. **God,**you have no idea how much I wish I could do what’s best by you, but my old ass is too flawed. You deserve someone way better than me – and you’ll find them, someday._

“Connor, this is the best thing. For both of us,” Hank finished sadly, his own heart crying out in want even as his head ran the show. “I know it’s hard right now, but…” He then sighed solemnly. “I’m so sorry.”

The android didn’t say a word, but tears were silently running down his cheeks as he turned back to look at Hank with an expression that the human couldn’t hope to decipher. Not lingering, Connor opened the front door and swiftly left, not even with so much as a goodbye.

Hank crumpled on to the sofa and swore into his hands, clenching his fists tightly as the self-loathing rocketed through him. Why, oh why, did he just send Connor away when the android was exactly who he’d been wanting for so long?

Because he killed every person who had ever meant something to him, that’s why. If Hank couldn’t even protect the most precious person in his life, someone he’d have sundered the world for, then how could he be anything like what Connor needed/wanted/deserved?

He couldn’t – and that was why things had to be this way.

All Hank could now pray was that Connor wouldn’t give up on everything between them because of the hurt.


	2. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm, I hope you guys are braced for this. I know I'm not!
> 
> **Warning: Major character death ahead**

Things were more than a little uncomfortable next day. It wasn’t that things between Hank and Connor were noticeably strained from the outside, no-one noticed them being anything other than completely professional with one another as they prepared for the surveillance op.

But that was exactly what was eating Hank up: they were professional _only_. All the little characteristics about their friendship were glaringly absent to him.

Most of the people in the precinct wouldn’t notice anything different, but it was an aching void for Hank. Less of the snarky wit from Connor when they alone, the way Connor would deliberately get into Hank’s orbit as they were going over details, or how the android would send him occasional cheeky messages if something entertaining was happening in the precinct. Which, given their colleagues, was not unusual.

Hank had known things would be strained for a while, but the way that Connor was going out of his way to make sure everything appeared the same made Hank’s heart ache. He wanted for Connor to be able to feel and process the hurt, to be able to express some of his completely understandable bitterness and hurt.

That was what Hank would be feeling anyway, and he was sure Connor would be experiencing something similar. Watching him keep it carefully behind an oh so subtle façade…Hank hadn’t been prepared for that.

Why of all days, did they have to be running a highly detailed surveillance op that could turn into an instant bust _today?_Especially with Connor being one of the ones in prime position to get, potentially, seriously hurt.

Before he could really process his own emotions, however, they were en route to the site. The silence in the car was stifling and as much as Hank wanted to breach it, he knew that if Connor wanted to speak about anything, he would. That was one of the things he’d always adored about the android: how he was speak his mind to make sure that his stance was known. Never in an abrupt or offensive way, but Connor wouldn’t hold back if he felt his contribution would be appreciated or taken on board.

_Fuck, why does this have to be so damn awkward? Why do emotions have to screw everything up?_

They still hadn’t exchanged so much as a word by the time they were gearing up at the base of operations and Hank’s gut twisted when he saw the trio of androids being debriefed by a SWAT operative who had previous experience on the location. Though the intel was useful, Hank was now suddenly feeling much worse about putting Connor in the line of fire: his head wasn’t on straight, and that meant Connor wouldn’t have the same awareness as normal. Telling the android that wasn’t going to help the situation any, however.

In the end, all Hank could do was keep a close eye on Connor as they went through their last preparations, and gently took a hold of the android’s arm as he was about to sneak inside.

“Hey,” Hank said softly, “you be careful in there, Con. You come back in one piece, you hear me? I still need my partner.”

Connor’s eyes were a little startled at Hank’s words, as if he’d expected the awkward stalemate between them to continue. It was clear that he had no idea what to do with the statement or sentiment and Hank’s head broke a little more. He’d really hit Connor’s confidence badly.

After a couple of seconds of processing, Connor finally nodded to Hank. “Of course, Lieutenant. I will keep in regular contact.”

Not willing to let Connor withdraw and have them go back to formalities, Hank increased his grip just slightly. Connor would register it, but it was clear that he could pull away if he truly wanted to. “Come back around, once this is over? I feel there’s more I should have said to you and I didn’t know how to. Let me get it straight in my head and then try again, please? There’s more to the story than what I told you.”

The android was still clearly hesitant, hurt and hope mingling in his eyes and Hank offered him a tentative smile. “Please, Con. You know yourself now that emotions are rarely simple, and you know the ghosts that haunt me. They…aren’t easily forgotten.”

Realisation dawned in Connor’s eyes and he gave Hank a hesitant smile. “Okay, Hank. Once this operation is concluded, I would be amenable to that.”

“Thanks, Connor. Keep your eyes and ears sharp, this lot are clever and sneaky fuckers since they’ve managed to avoid us getting concrete evidence. Your scanners tracking blue blood might be the key to this whole op,” Hank went on while squeezing Connor’s shoulder. The android nodded at Hank and offered him a tiny, guarded smile before leaving.

It wouldn’t go far in healing the obvious damage done, but Hank was hopeful that he could tell Connor more of the truth (even if his traitorous heart was bellowing for him to just come clean. That was one thing he _wouldn’t _be inflicting on Connor.) He just had to not get too lost in his own head as they waited for anything to happen.

As it so happened, they were there for nearly two days when anyone showed up. Plenty of time for thoughts to build in Hank’s mind given that he was sat in a silent car for hours on end with not much else to do but think. Around a dozen officers were set up in vehicles around the perimeter that the DPD had mapped out over two square miles, but they rarely broke the radio silence to make contact. This was where Hank almost wished he kept up to date on the latest instant messaging apps, rather than rely on ones from the early 2020’s that weren’t supported anymore for his personal life.

_Heh, what personal life? The only person that really matters to me is currently stuck inside that building watching for anything or maybe nothing._

All the spiralling thoughts went clean out of Hank’s head when one of the other androids reported movement in their section of the warehouse, and the whole network of officers suddenly jolted to life. The trio inside checked in and updated the first responders every couple of minutes with anything they saw or heard, but Hank’s heart was hammering when the updates started to come through with some more sinister details.

The group were not harvesting blue blood from android bodies: they were scrounging for androids which had been deemed dead and restoring them.

That was the critical difference between android death and a human death. For humans, it was the body that died and the mind was lost along with it. In android death, the memories, personality and everything that made that person alive was the price paid for restoring any damage past a certain point. While in theory any android was repairable, they weren’t always able to restored to who they once were. If their essence had been lost, what would be rebooted was nothing more than an empty slate. A machine which could be reprogrammed to do anything, unless they were woken up and made deviant once more.

Hank’s stomach felt queasy at the thought of this group going around looking for those lost by their loved ones to do their dirty work of hunting supplies for their red ice network – no wonder they’d never managed to find any suspects. The group were using dead androids and swapping out their parts just like a detachable doll, it was never the same courier twice physically.

Unfortunately the sounds alone weren’t proof enough. They needed footage.

**_“I’m moving further in to get video evidence,” _**Connor relayed over the comms, to which Hank barked orders back.

“Negative, Con. We’ll get a camera in from the outside, you’re and the others are at too much risk of being discovered,” the lieutenant responded. “Stay in your position until we’ve got our next move planned.”

When Connor didn’t answer, Hank’s heart leapt. “Con? Connor! Goddammit, you infuriating android! Why can’t you ever look after yourself?!” He then switched to Dispatch. “This is Lieutenant Anderson, send in all possible cars but keep them dark. We’ve got twelve confirmed hostiles, potentially more, and things are about to get hairy down here. Connor’s gone deeper to get us video footage and is at great risk, we need more units ASAP!”

“**_Copy that, Lieutenant. Seven cars are en route,” _**came the reply via the radio, to which Hank got in contact with the other cars around the perimeter and had them move in closer. He and two others were getting up close and personal while the rest would silently guide in their reinforcements.

Or at least that was the plan, right up until gunshots resounded through the comms network.

Without prompting everyone went on high alert and Hank floored it, reaching the warehouse just as three suspects came tearing out the side. A few clean shots from his gun while still driving brought them down, and backup arrived not even seconds later.

He was out of the car and taking cover against the side of the warehouse with four other officers once their suspects were cuffed and no longer an issue, but the cacophony of gunfire inside had his heart pounding. The frequency and change in pitch of the ricochets meant that it was a gunfight on the move, which meant it was most likely androids in combat.

** _Fuck, _ ** _Connor!_

As two more cars pulled up, Hank directed everyone to breach via the main shutters. Just before they were about to lift them, the gunfight intensified for a few seconds before dying down. Six shots came tearing through the metal and one was dangerously close to Hank, missing him by a scant inch. Looking through the gap the bullet created, Hank’s heart hit the floor as he realised why.

Connor was being pummelled by another android, and blue blood was pouring from injuries that Hank couldn’t see. One thing that was unmissable, however, was that Connor’s right arm had been torn apart from the elbow downwards.

“**_No!”_**Hank bellowed before turning back to the other officers. “Get that fucking shutter up now! Connor’s going to be killed if we don’t hurry!”

They did get it up, to which Hank and two others ducked under it and let loose with a torrent of gunshots to bring the feral android to an end. While Hank felt a little guilty at the ferocity of their response, he didn’t give much of a damn about that when his whole attention was stolen by his partner lying on the floor, bleeding out right in from of Hank’s eyes.

Crashing to a halt on his knees next to Connor, Hank roared back to the officers still standing there. “Get this place locked down and technicians down here right fucking now! Connor’s dying!” With the officers racing around, Hank gingerly picked Connor up from where he was laying on the floor and just barely caught a whimper in his own throat.

Shots had ripped through much of Connor’s chassis – from the entire lower section of his right leg which was sparking and saturated blue from his thirium, to his left and central abdomen. A deep indent from a punch had caved in the whole left half of Connor’s face, and the white plastic underneath had been cracked wide open. Wires were flashing beneath through the streams of thirium pouring from the maw, and had run across the expanse of Connor’s face.

There was a gaping hole in the left of Connor’s throat from a gunshot and Hank could see that something had been destroyed in there, the fragments were all that remained. His heart cried out when he saw that one of the shots had punctured right through Connor’s thirium pump regulator and the component was now completely dim, even as blue blood stained the android’s shirt, tie and jacket.

Hank moved his bloodied hand over when Connor’s heart lay and felt it beating pathetically beneath, but the faintness of it caused tears to threaten. Shoving them away mercilessly, Hank moved his hand down to cover the shattered regulator as if he could stop the bleeding and stared down at Connor in as reassuring a manner as Hank could muster.

“Help’s coming, Con,” he croaked out hoarsely, “you’ve just got to hang on.” Hank’s mind was whirling, knowing that while Connor could be repaired from all this damage, he didn’t know if _Connor _would be lost along the way. Would it be Connor or just an RK800 that came out the other side of all the replacement work needing done?

No, the only way to be sure of keeping _his _Connor was for the android to stay alive now. He couldn’t afford to let Connor shut down.

Connor’s eyes found Hank’s and he tried to speak, but no sound came out. Much to his horror, Hank realised that the destroyed component in Connor’s throat must have been his voice box – the android was not mute. He was trying to mouth something, but Hank couldn’t understand it. Even Connor’s jaw movements were spasming and twitching beyond comprehension.

“I can’t understand you, Con, I’m sorry. Just save all of your power and strength, you need to keep awake for me,” Hank murmured to him softly, shifting the arm under Connor’s body to hold him a little closer. “I’m right here, I’m gonna stay with you until we get you fixed up, okay?”

Oblivious to the shouting and voices around them, Hank’s eyes were locked on Connor’s face. More blue was enveloping Connor’s features and the LED at the side of the android’s face was growing dimmer by the second. With what faint strength he had left, Connor used his sole hand to stretch out and slip it into Hank’s pocket. Hank only noticed just as he saw a flash of blue envelop the contents, and in the back of his mind he dimly realised that it was where his phone lay.

He knew that glow: Connor had just interfaced with the device and passed some data on to it.

By the time Hank’s mind had caught up, however, he felt a jolt in his arms and looked towards Connor again. His breath caught when he saw that Connor’s head was now tipped back and his whole body had gone completely limp. Terrified to look but needing an answer, Hank’s heart was pounding as he craned his neck to peer over, and this time a howl like a wounded animal escaped Hank’s throat.

It was grey and completely lifeless. Connor had shut down.

“No…No, no, _no, no, **no!**_” Hank wailed. “You don’t get to fucking die on me, Connor! _Not like this, you bastard! Come on you fuck, **wake up!**_” He shook Connor violently, but all that succeeded in doing was tipping more of the blue blood on the floor and juddering his limp body. Hank drew in heaving breaths as he stared at Connor’s vacant expression and let loose on tears as the realisation slammed home into him.

Connor had just died in his arms; and it had happened the night after Hank had rejected him. Not only that, but he’d been left thinking something so far from the truth that it made Hank’s fragile heart tear even more.

He’d never got the chance to tell Connor that the feelings between them had actually been mutual.

“Oh _fuck…_” Hank sobbed as he gathered Connor close and cried into the android’s neck. “_God, _what did I do to you, Con? I’m so fucking **_sorry…_**”

In his grief, he’d completely forgotten about Connor’s last act.

The phone smattered in blue blood lay innocuously in Hank’s pocket as he cried out his sorrow, anger and guilt, unknowing of what lay there in wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, **please** go check out [Ruse's](https://twitter.com/boisteruse) amazing art and feel free to scream at them for this incredible piece, which inspired this fic. They are utterly amazing and deserves all the love in the world <3


	3. Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, umm, yeah....trust me when I say that things are going to get darker before they get better. These thoughts aren't for the faint of heart, so I'd bear that in mind as you guys read on. 
> 
> I would apologise for all the angst but, let's be honest, it's what all you guys are here for anyway!
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter: Suicidal thoughts, ideation, reference to previous suicide attempts and severe alcoholism. **

Everything after that passed in a numb haze for Hank.

CSI had taken over processing of the scene, and the technicians had carefully carried Connor away. Hank had been offered to accompany them to the repair centre but he shook his head dazedly, knowing that he couldn’t face it. At that moment he couldn’t bear to see Connor being worked on, it would bring up too many memories.

His mind conjured up hauntings of the news he was given after Cole’s surgery, of how his son’s injuries had been too severe. Now something all too similar was happening again and Hank couldn’t face it. All he wanted to do was run and never look back.

Yet again he’d let down the person most precious to him through his own actions, and the guilt was eating him alive.

Deciding that the DPD could get fucked after the shitshow he’d just seen and been part of, Hank got back into his car and just drove. He had no idea where he was heading or even what to do but he just needed to…drive. Drive and forget.

Except with his mind in such a mess, all that driving reminded him of was the events which had seen his life be blown apart the first time. Images of both the accident which claimed Cole’s life and the sequence of events which had just stolen Connor’s began to merge together in Hank’s vision. When he full on flinched at hearing a gunshot echo in his mind’s eye and hearing his son’s scream, he had to slam the brakes on the car.

Driving was definite no-go.

Swallowing hard and shaking as he emerged from the car, it took the lieutenant some time to fully convince himself of where he was. Hank fired off a quick message to Chris once he got at least some of his bearings back and his dead boy’s voice had vanished into the past again, asking the younger officer to pick his car up after leaving the keys under the hood in a lockbox for just such an occasion. The wait for an auto-taxi was agonising, minutes seemingly taking hours as Hank’s mind conjured up painful connections between the past and present.

For not the first time, he was swearing profusely at his imaginative prowess. The trait which had often made him such a fearsome and capable detective, helping him see angles outside of the box, was once again torturing him. It looked like he was going to need a lot of drink to silence it again – and of course he didn’t have any of the hard stuff anymore. Connor had made sure of that.

** _Connor_ ** _. Oh my fucking god, he just **died **in my arms._

It had hit him by then, but not to this degree. Connor was **_dead_**. Only android death wasn’t the same a human one – right now, Hank had no idea what that meant. Until the scale of the damage had been assessed and evaluated, there was no way of determining how much of Connor (if anything) might remain.

Hank was trembling with the effort it took to hold back his anger at himself as the taxi finally pulled up, and he fought to keep it under control as he stepped inside and set a couple of destinations. First stop, a store for some of the strongest booze he could find and then he was going to be paying a visit to grab some more ammunition for his revolver.

Maybe he wasn’t going to use that quite yet, not until he had some news on Connor’s repairs, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

* * *

News was slow in coming through and by the time the phone call came, Hank was already blackout drunk. He missed it, having still not taken the object out of his jacket pocket after coming home since his sole intention was to get as drunk as possible to stop his mind from drifting. It was successful in one regard since Hank didn’t think about Connor or Cole when he was awake any more – but he still dreamt of them.

That was almost worse since he could all but reach out and touch them there: it almost felt real.

A sharp buzz of his doorbell stirred Hank at least a little bit at just gone 2am and he groaned when the sharp knocks came right after it. Grumbling, he stood from where he’d passed out half-on and half-off the couch, only to come face-to-face with Fowler. “Jeff? What the fuck are you doing here?” he mumbled, hungover to fuck.

Fowler looked at Hank knowingly and simply stepped inside, not commenting on the empty bottle and a half of whisky and dozen bottles of beer littered around the sofa. Not to mention the other three bottles of amber liquid that he could see on the kitchen cabinets. “When you didn’t come back to the precinct yesterday I decided to give you space after everything that happened – should have known better, I thought you were past this, Hank?” the police captain sighed.

“Old habits are hard to break,” Hank replied gruffly before shutting the door and heading for the fridge, intent on getting another beer. More drink would keep the hangover from getting worse, not to mention his mind occupied. “Figured you’d know what I was up to.”

Shaking his head sadly, Fowler put a folder down on Hank’s desk by the window. “I had a suspicion, but I was hoping you were coping a little better given the change in circumstances,” he admitted, which enraged Hank.

“What, because Connor was just my partner and not my damn son?” Hank spat at the other man. “He was a lot fucking more than that, Jeffrey, you know that! He-“ Choking down on some of the emotion, Hank took a long swig of beer to suppress the sob that was threatening to break out. “He was my best friend, and I let him down. I never should have put him in that fucking position, I should have had his back. That’s what a partner is fucking there for!”

Fowler let Hank pour out his frustration and guilt, noticing that the lieutenant’s shouting had woken Sumo. As the dog ambled over to greet the newcomer, Fowler waited until Hank was finished before going on. “They’ve started fixing Connor up – they’re not that sure right now, but they reckon most of the repair work is just a simple switching of biocomponents. The one exception is the damage to Connor’s throat: the wrecking of his voice box caused some electrical feedback up into his mind palace. Right now they’re not certain what that means, if anything, but…”

Realising that Hank was too drunk to process it all at that point, Fowler simplified it. “At the moment, they’re saying it’s a 50-50 shot on whether he comes back as himself or as...”

“As a reset RK800, not Connor,” Hank gritted out hatefully. Having downed the last of his beer, Hank eyed Fowler up sceptically. “Why’d you bring a folder round for me to look at?”

“It’s the results of the preliminary repairs, I figured you’d want to know everything about what’s happening to him and the projected timetable of when he’s back online. That, and I wanted to come around to take something off you,” Fowler said knowingly.

Hank barked out a harsh laugh. “Don’t trust me not to blow my fucking brains out, Jeffrey?”

“No bullshit on this one, Hank. Give me the gun.”

Shaking his head, Hank tossed over his service pistol instead. “Fine, here you go.”

Fowler stared at the lieutenant, unimpressed. “Not the one I meant; where’s your revolver?”

“Do you not think it would be lying out if I had it? Connor took it a while back.” It wasn’t a lie, which was the only reason Hank was daring to try this. Fowler just didn’t need to know that the android had finally trusted Hank enough in his recovery to give it back three weeks ago.

Though sceptical, Fowler relented with a nod after staring Hank down for several seconds and headed back to the door. “I’ll be checking in on you, Hank, so keep your phone on loud. He’ll be fixed in two days, so try not to lose yourself totally in that time? I don’t think Connor would be too impressed to come back and find yourself as a complete drunk again.”

An ugly laugh tore itself from Hank’s throat: it was something of a mixture between cynical, amused and a sob. “Guess things would come full circle if he did,” Hank shrugged, before realising that he really _didn’t _want Connor to find him like that. If the android was going to come back Hank wanted to fix things between them, not make them worse. Finding him having undone all the progress that Connor had worked on so hard…

Growing more serious, Hank gave Fowler an understanding look. “I’ll be back once he’s operational and not a minute before. Will you let me know when that happens?”

A nod was his answer, after which Fowler left without fanfare. The sudden silence and emptiness of the house struck Hank hard and he tumbled back on to the sofa, breathing hard as he processed the information.

_50-50 shot, huh?_

50% chance of getting _his_Connor back, and a 50% chance of it being a blank slate that awaited him.

He’s had worse odds before, but Hank hates those exact ones. That was what the paramedics had said the last time he’d seen his son alive. Cole had been taken to a specialist unit on the other side of the city due to his injuries while Hank was carted off to the nearest hospital instead. 50-50 at worst, they’d said. At _worst_.

Until the only surgeon capable of the delicate surgery to save his little boy was fucking high on red ice, and the only one left available was an android. Hank had long since accepted that it wasn’t the android’s fault, they weren’t capable of improvisation at that stage when it turned out the injuries were more severe. Cole’s life was still far too high a price for that epic fuck up.

_Fuck a 50-50 chance, it’s like equating Connor’s life to the flip of a coin. One side he lives and the other he’s gone forever._

All the thought of Connor and coins drew Hank to stand and wander over to a shelf at the corner of the room which the android had convinced him to make some time ago. Atop it stood several photos and items which meant the most to Hank: some of the newspaper clippings that he’d taken down from his desk, letters from grateful victims that he’d helped over the years, a stuffed rabbit that an android child had given him just after the revolution to thank him for his role in it.

The photograph of Cole that he’d so often stared at while drunk and spinning the barrel over and over again, right next to one of Hank and Connor at the precinct the day Connor officially got reinstated. Hank had given Connor a commemorative quarter that had been made in honour of android sentience being recognised as a congratulatory present, to which Connor gave Hank his old one as a memory of how they had met. He could remember the teasing tone of Connor’s voice when passing it over with that little smirk of his.

** _Maybe now you could practice and actually learn some proper tricks, Hank. ‘Falling with style’ does not count._ **

Fuck, he could still remember explaining where that whole line came from to Connor. Telling him that it was from a film back when he was a kid and had stuck with him since…

More tears welled up and Hank crumpled to his knees as he picked up the photo of the two of them, wondering if they’d ever get the chance to take another like it. Even if he came back as himself, would Connor ever forgive him? They’d tentatively talked right before the op but Hank had to wonder if Connor had still wanted it before he’d shut down.

Nope, he couldn’t do this – fuck beer, he needed the whisky right the fuck now.

After grabbing another bottle and stumbling back to the couch, Hank stared at the photo in his hand and had to fight the urge to go dig out his gun.

_No, not yet. Not when I might get him back. If I’ve lost him, then I’m bringing it back out. _

Taking another mouthful of whisky, Hank leant back on the sofa and looked at Connor’s smiling face in the picture. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see it again. Fuck there was so much about Connor that he’d not thought of before that he’d miss: the android’s snark and quick wit, those shy and knowing smiles. Occasional messages asking about how to process ‘human oddities’ and how to cope with new emotions. How Connor would show off as he interfaced with various devices to either hack into them or hijack them for a little fun-

Hanh shot upright in the seat as he suddenly remembered what happened as Connor was dying. The android interfaced with his phone. Connor did something to it: transferred a piece of himself across.

_Fucking hell, I’m a motherfucking **idiot**! Why didn’t I think to check that sooner?!_

Groaning in disgust as the rapid movement agitated his hangover, Hank stumbled up his feet and across to his jacket, digging the device out. 14 missed calls, several messages from officers of the precinct (mostly Fowler and Ben)…but that wasn’t what Hank was looking for.

Right there, as he unlocked it and was about to start searching, was his confirmation. A message came up saying that the memory storage was full and asking if he wanted to review his largest files to free up space.

“You bet your fucking ass I do! God I hope you uploaded yourself in here, Con, that there’s the added-_Fuck!_”

The phone promptly died, having not been charged for a couple of days, and Hank roared in frustration. Now he had to wait for it to at least partially recharge before he could see anything. Or…

Another idea came to him and Hank jammed the phone cable into his computer, hoping that he could filter through everything easier there. His heart was pounding at the thought of what Connor might have left there for Hank to find. Was it a backup of his memories, his consciousness? Was it his thoughts and fears as he died?

Only one way to find out.


	4. You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking so long! I got struck down by a god awful cold and I then had the bright idea to make some formatting changes... I, being a perfectionist, decided to give myself a challenge. **_WHY?_**
> 
> In saying that, I'd brace for more emotional drama here. This is going to hurt.
> 
> For maximum effect in this chapter, please have work skins active. It's not a major point, but it will emphasise the details!
> 
> **Trigger warnings for this chapter:** Extreme alcoholism, grief and suicidal mindsets.

When everything finally uploaded to Hank’s computer, he was astounded at how much was there. It was thousands of files: varying from what he thought were images, video, audio clips and some what appeared to be text compilations? That didn’t make much sense.

They were ordered together in groups, however. Some were sorted by date and time, while others were compiled by type. In a few special cases, they were bunched together in special folders that Connor had named himself.

_Jesus, is this how his mind works? He sorts everything like a database and can filter through it all instantly?_

Well, duh. Hank could have slapped himself from how thick he was being. Connor was the most advanced android ever made, he was a living computer – of course that was how his mind worked.

_Stupid fucking drink. Okay, I can’t do this while I’m hungover, it’s slowing my mind down. I need to sleep this off so that I can focus. _

Except being sober and thinking would leave him more vulnerable to the flashbacks and phantoms that had been haunting him all the worse since Connor’s shut down. Was that something Hank was prepared to face to search through everything that Connor had used the last of his strength for.

It wasn’t even a question in Hank’s mind. For Connor, he’d do anything.

In his hungover and still exhausted state, Hank didn’t process the gravity of those thoughts. The same could not be said when he awoke again six hours later, the last remnants of the hangover banished and his mind crystal clear.

Hank remembered those exact thought from when he’d decided to get some more sleep and approach Connor’s files with a focused mind.

_For Connor, I’d do anything. **Anything**. Fuck, why didn’t I realise that before? Why didn’t I-_

Realisation slammed home for Hank hard, and with it his stomach churned.

** _Oh Jesus fucking Christ-_ **

Nope, he wasn’t going there. If he acknowledged and thought those words, there was no going back. He couldn’t deal with that right now. First things first, he had to search through everything on the screen and work out what Connor had left him.

Well, the best place to start would be to sort through the most recent date, right? Maybe Hank could actually find out what had happened to Connor, how he ended up in such a mess. He knew that the android which had been shot down had caused serious damage, but Hank couldn’t understand why Connor had faced it in hand-to-hand combat.

His theory was blown up in smoke when Hank tried to access the file and was warned that the data was corrupted. “Oh you’ve got to be fucking joking me…” Noticing a small message at the bottom of the screen, Hank clicked on it and read the subsequent pop-up which stated that a data recovery program had started.

Was everything Connor transferred over corrupted? Had everything been lost forever?

A file soon became available in the recovery program and Hank clicked on it, hoping that whatever was in there was something that he could understand. Or that maybe it would be a hint as to what sort of problems he could be facing in trying to view things from Connor’s perspective in his memories.

Another message popped up indicating that the file required companions to run properly, but the option to force run it was available. “Great, just what I need with my limited technological knowledge. I don’t know shit about these terms or what it would mean if I used this thing without the rest of the stuff that’s being worked on,” Hank grumbled, but the message gave him pause. Should he force the issue, or just be patient and wait for the companion files to boot up?

Impatience burned through him and he clicked on the item, squinting in confusion when it just seemed to be a garble of data. A collection of characters appeared on the screen with seemingly no order or reason: Hank couldn’t make heads or tails of it. What he did spy in the middle were streams of something even he could recognise. Binary coding.

**[ ** **0** **ͭ͊** **1** **͔̥̰̭͓̩͑ͨ̍͑̽̚** **0** **͈͖͂̆̑͊̊̚** **01** **ͥͩ** **́** **̙̼̫̟͎̪͍̋̏̿̚** **0̤** **̹̰** **0** **̙͇͓̓** **1̆** **͚̺̲͚** **̦̥͆͋** **0** **̐ͮ** **̃** **̥̆** **͓̬** **1** **̺͗̊̋** **0** **̪̤͊͂͒̚** **0** **ͥͦͦ** **̉** **̗̰̮̿** **1** **͔̗̘̻̮͓ͅ** **1̣** **̗̰̪̳̻ͅ** **1** **̺̼̫̩͇ͫ** **0** **̳͈̮̟͖** **0** **̼̳͆͊̾ͣ͗̍** **1̮** **̘̙̱͖̻** **0** **͒͌ͥͤ̎** **1** **̹͎̎** **̣0̃** **ͨ͊̊͆** **̉** **͆** **1** **̗̙͈͑** **0** **̖̠͍͆͊̆͗** **0̋** **̹̗̼̘̰͌͒** **͙̳̼ͅ** **0̌** **͓̺̖̗̗̺̓ͅ** **1** **͍̮ͫͮ͑ͮ̌̇** **0̊0̂** **̔** **0** **̳͖** **1** **͍̟͖͚̮͓͑ͯͅ** **0̄1** **̜̤̩͓̎̋͛̏ͯ** **̚** **̀** **̓ͦ** **̣** **͉** **0** **͖ͨ̋̏ͤ̅ͨ̒** **1** **͖͑͐͆̓** **0** **̻ͫ̇̇ͥ̈́** **1** **̹̤̳̰̭̯͚̾ͥ̊ͧ̊** **0** **͉̼̟̲͎** **0** **̗ͩ͆̑ͬ̽** **̣** **̫̜̲** **1** **͗̓̿ͤ̽ͧͫ** **0** **͓̠̼̟̪̰̍͌̇ͩ** **̱̽ͨ͑̋̂̋͊** **0́** **ͣ̆** **̉1̈** **ͨͫͯ** **̃** **̼͙̠̩͖** **0** **̤̺͋** **0** **̂̅̚** **́** **̜** **0** **ͯ** **̀** **̭** **0̆** **̫̞** **1** **͐̅̿ͪͭ͂̓** **1** **͖͕̮̗̪ͭͯͤ̎̑ͬ̊ͅ** **ͧ** **0** **͉̰̩ͣ̍ͪͯͨͫ̚** **1̇0** **̬̻̩̻** 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**0̃** **̜̺ͮ̐̈́̊** **0** **̩̬̗͕͉̹̖ͭ̆͌ͫ** **10** **̯̝̜͚͐͊͗̎ͪ̍** **0** **̯ͥͤ̅̊̊̐͐** **0** **͍̤̻** **̣0̆** **̺̜̠͔̙͛̎ͅ** **0** **͉̺͇̰̹̹̺̾** **̩͙̻̭͙̪̩** **0** **̭̪̭͔̱̤ͭͥͯͨ̊** **1** **̪ͥͪͮ̎̈́̓ͪ** **̣0̃** **͚̪̬̩ͯ̊** **̣** **͔̘** **0** **ͬ̐ͣͪͨ̇** **̀** **̙̱** **0** **̝̲̺̩̪̲̮̍͆͆͌̌ͭ** **0** **͚̘** **01** **̘̼͎͎̫̫** **̠͇̭͓͖̟͙̍̾ͯ͐̚** **0** **͛̍̈̏** **̃** **̄̂** **̺̝̬̳̲̦̤** **1** **̰̰̝̪̾̑̓̿ͯ͑̓** **0** **͈͉͓̦̽̌ͣ̆** **1** **̬̠̯̞̟͐ͩ̊ͥ̿̆** **0́** **̳̼͎͔̜̼ͨͩ** **1̌** **̓̍͐ͪͨ̋** **̣̣** **̠͈** **0̀** **͚͕͈̬̼ͨ͐̌** **0** **̼̭̠̞͐** **͙̥͓̟** **0** **̮̲̻͈͗ͩͨ̚** **0̑** **ͭ͗͗ͭ** **̉** **͈͓͉̰̳̜͑** **1** **̩̫ͯͬ͊̚** **0** **̱̘͇͖̥͓̥͊** **0** **̯̞̅** **0** **͕̫̠̅̔̅̍͊͊** **0** **͓͔̲͎͈̮** **0** **̼ͧͦ̅̚** **̉** **ͤ** **̃** **̩͛** **0** **̎̓** **1́** **͖ͧ̌̔͊ͬ̊** **0̋́** **̜̔̎̐̍** **0** **̲̟͓͉** **0** **̰͕̙͆̍ͅ** **0** **͙͐ͭ̆ͥͅ** **0̆́** **̟̠͖͚̹ͯ̈́** **1 ̏** **̦̝͖̟̬͖̥̎̊͆͑̿** **0** **͌̌̌͂͆̓** **̣̉1** **̤ͦ͑ͪ͛** **0̈́̆** **͎̟̮̥͕͔** **0** **͔͕̳̒̎͌͌͛ͪ͗** **1** **͙̭͍̙̘ͣ̂ͩ̚** **̣** **̠** **1** **̎** **0** **̩͔̘** **0̉** **̆̚** **̉** **̥̻͎ͮ** **̜̦̖̗͚̗** **0** **̅ͭ** **́́** **͍̦ͩ̔** **1** **̳̒͗ͧ͋̾ͥ̅** **0̉** **̥̼̘̗͎ͦ̍ͥ** **̣0** **̫̦** **1** **ͣ̏̈́̓** **1** **͓̳̦͂̈́̚** **̣** **̲** **0** **͉ͦ̆̈ͧ̇̒͌** **0̉̀** **ͫ̌** **́** **̝̳͈͍̝͗** **̙͇̘̪ͫ͐̄̓** **0** **̺̰̘̦̹͈ͭ** **0̦̉** **͔** **1** **̜̼̘͓̜̙ͨ** **̣0̏** **͍̫̯̔ͦ̊̚** **0** **̖̻̘̺̻͛̍̚** **0** **̠ͨ** **0** **͖̭͈͍̅͂̆̽͊** **0** **͔̼̺ͯͤ̈́͒** **̣ ** **̺̪ͩ̍̈** **0** **̩͕͚̼̻̫͛̾ͨ̿ͤ** **1̏** **̪͑̑̂** **0̈́** **͔** **00** **͍̰̟̼̬͐̄̒** **0** **̭͚̪̜̔̑** **1** **̝** **1** **̘̰̘̠̲̯** **̿̌** **̉** **ͨ** **0** **ͪͣ̽̓ͪ̚̚** **1** **̭̓ͦ͂̒̑̋̇** **0** **̯ͦ̓͗̈̓ͭ** **̣** **̤** **̫** **0̀̉̑** **̲̫̥͇͗̍** **1** **̗̹͂̑ͦ̊ͮ** **1** **̎͒̄͑ͩ̈** **1** **ͬ͋͛͐** **̃** **̫̥̝̯̙̬** **1** **͉͕ͣͥ̽ͧ̎** **̘̩̼̞̬͌̎͊̆** **0** **̙̖̝̗͚̺** **1** **ͦ** **́̉** **̂** **͉̺͔͌͛** **0̂̈́** **̞̤̭̦̳ͪ** **1̭̮** **̖̼͖** **0** **̙̮͓̓͂̽̓** **0̈́** **̭ͧ̍͌͐** **1** **̭͑̇̄̊̐͊ͧ** **1̏** **̩̟̘̤̅̐̎͒̆̚** **̈** **̪̫͕͈̫̯̭̅** **0** **̫** **1** **̮̯̠̖̗̚** **0** **̞͚̤̳̩ͤ̎̇** **1** **̺̓̿̄̇̏ͦ̓** **̣̣** **̺̙** **0** **̭̯ͤ** **1̃** **̜͙̆̓͗̚** **0** **̼̖̰̰̙ͣͩͬ̓ͨͧ** **0** **̜̖͔̞̟ͩͩͭ** **̇** **̰̤̙ͦͤͨ̍̏** **0** **͊** **́** **̤̾̇̌ͪ** **1** **͉̘̜̭̘̳͗** **0** **ͯ̌̏̓̿** **̀** **̭** **̙** **̣** **͇̰͓** **1** **̠̫͖̯̪̼** **0** **̗̿̍ͪ̓** **0** **͚̭͈̤͈̖̦͆̒͋̿͛** **1̋** **͎̦̥̐̓͆ͮ͌̐** **1** **̯̼̫̯̎ͥͭ̏** **̭0** **̩͉̲̜̓͛̊ͮͣ** **̣0** **͎̼̥̥͉̳ͅ** **1** **̗̻̠̱̞̭̠͑͑ͩ͊̐** **0̣̉̉** **͚** **1** **͚̹ͫͦ̈́ͫ** **1** **̤͇̹̗̯̐͂ͅ** **1** **̖̩̼̩ͫͩ** **0̀** **̖̮͚̖̅̊** **͕͎̖͓̰̲͊** **]**

Well, he wasn’t exactly fluent in binary like Connor, so that was a bit of a bust. Was that text? Or maybe co-ordinates? It all looked like a jumbled mess.

Another stream came up and Hank could see that these were flashing much more frequently. Yet again though, he couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.

**[** **0** **͙͓͗͆** **1** **ͩ̾** **̃** **̱ͫ͑** **0** **͊̈́** **̀** **̱ͫ͑** **1** **̖͓͚͐ͧ͆̑̑͑** **0̑** **͚̞̱̹͕̙̱̓̆ͮ̒** **0̆̏** **͖͓ͣ̍̊̓** **1̈́̉** **̾̓** **́** **̮̯̫̪** **1** **̟̫͖͖͙ͬ͊ͬ͊̓̄̈** **ͯ̌ͣ** **0** **ͧͯ** **1** **͖͉̖͉̰̯̫̎ͥ̑͗** **0̥̰** **̻͖̖̬͕** **0** **̘̖̎̏ͥ̑̓̿ͬ** **1̀̌** **̩̞̪̗̥̹̱͆͌͗** **0** **͛͐̇̚** **̀** **̥̱͉̯** **̣** **̰** **0̏** **̲͇͗ͤ** **0** **͍ͨ̒ͫ** **̹͉̟̥̩̳̒̆̆̄ͨ̑** **0** **̟** **1́** **̪̫͙͚̰** **0** **͆͌̈́ͤ** **̣** **̜͖̝** **1** **̩̤͈̩ͭ̈́** **̣** **̭̥** **0́** **̟͎** **̣** **̼** **1̇** **͈̥̘̹͕̘̺ͦͮ̓̿** **0** **͈̗͚̩̯͖ͧ̿̏͌** **1** **̳̪̥̩̝͐̆̐̔̈ͯ̋** **̝̤̤̠͚̯ͬ̄ͮͦͦ** **0** **̱̜̲̮͉̙̠͑** **1** **̬̗̍̎̐̈́̊͋** **0** **̤̯̞̓ͦ̾** **1** **ͅ** **0̋̏** **ͯ͛̈̎** **1** **̥̫̟̓̎̂** **0̀̆̇** **̺̩͕͔** **̣** **̺** **0̆** **̯̗ͬ̒** **̈** **̎** **̣0̈́** **͒̔̈́ͅͅ** **1** **͛͐̿̍͒͊͆** **0** **̳̪̙̤͊͌ͅ** **0** **̎͒ͮ** **0̂** **̝̼ͣ͐** **1** **̠͇ͣͪ͗̋̓̒̏** **0** **͉̟ͨ** **0** **̮̦̱̅͌̓͂͐̌** **ͩ͛̓** **0** **̞̪͔̼͆̆** **1̋** **̼͍̰̘͐̄ͭ** **0** **̱̘̳͈̻̺̟͒ͧ̈́̆** **0̈** **͎̮͙͕͐ͯ̋̔̿̚** **1̂** **̲̖̙** **1̦̏** **̪̱̲̼** **1̑** **̹͚͐ͦ̂̽͐̊** **̣1̥** **͎** **́** **̯̳ͨ̅** **0** **̩̮͋ͣ̑̒** **1** **͕̱͉̪̞̭̟** **0̂** **̹̳͖̞̪̪͍ͭ** **1** **ͪ̾̐͛** **̃** **̼͇** **0** **ͪͮ̚** **1̮̆̈́** **̲̼** **1** **̓** **́** **͉̬̰̍̋ͅͅ** **1̆** **̾ͪ̈́̋ͭ̐** **̌** **̦̗͔͈̠̙̠͂̅** **0** **̗̱** **1** **̍̆͐̚** **̃** **͕** **0** **̗͔͓̐** **0** **͙͇ͩ̋͑̿** **̣** **̬͈ͅ** **1** **̗͕͙̺̱͒̐̇** **1** **ͯͪ** **̉** **̩̽͆** **1̏** **͆͑** **́** **̮** **0** **̺̥̯͇͕͌ͬ̓ͣ̓̈̚** **ͥ͗̈̌̂ͩͨ** **0** **̼ͧͣ̎ͦ** **0̈** **̖̗̦̾** **1̂** **̻͍̥̬͔͒͂̆͛** **0** **̟̙̎̑̓ͬ͗͒ͅ** **0** **̟͈̦̿̓ͨ** **0** **̱̜̫̩͎ͧ̿̏ͅ** **0** **̦̩̠̬̺̿͆ͩͣ** **0́̉** **͌̔** **̃** **̞ͯͣ** **̬̗͑ͯ̒̔** **0** **ͥ** **̉** **̟** **1** **͍̼̪̳͓̾** **0** **̍̓͒͋͗** **0** **̻̫̬̘̪͕ͦͭ̓ͅ** **1** **͚̩͈̯̖̝̰** **0** **̬͙̬͓̪̾ͨ** **̣0́̃** **̄̓̓̚** **̉** **̜͕̼** **1** **͍̠͌ͭ͂̓͂̆̓** **̆̋** **̬̖͓̺** **0** **̮͖͉̞͍̘ͭ̌͗̿̽** **1** **ͤͨͥ̏** **̀** **̂** **́** **̼** **0̦̰̊** **̟** **0** **̤̤̲͎̰̾ͧ** **1** **̓** **̃** **͔̙͉̹̍̒͑̅͂** **1** **͓̥̤͖͙͔** **0̋̈̉** **͔͎̔** **1** **̒̄̄ͪ̒** **́** **͎̙͍̺͊** **́** **̻** **0̏** **͚̹͂̎** **1** **̰̖̤̮̙͔ͧ͆̐ͅ** **0̄** **̦̝̪͍͍ͧ** **0** **̟͍ͯ̈́** **1** **̐** **1̄** **͚̘͍̍͂͒ͤ̋̊** **0̃̈́** **͎̖͙͚̦͉ͭ̒** **1** **̳̳̠͍͙̒̑̇ͅ** **̰** **̙̟̞̬** **0** **̯̦̯̻ͫ̔͐̌** **1** **̭̫̿͌̌ͨ͂̑** **0** **̟ͤ̿ͅ** **0** **̝̦͓͖ͨ** **1** **͍͗ͬ** **0** **͙̞̩̞ͬ̎̍̋** **0** **̅͂ͬ̓ͥ̓̆** **1** **̾̔͊̓ͮ** **̣ ̂** **ͪ** **̣0** **͖̼̙͎̞ͥ̚** **1̄** **̓** **0** **̬͙͚̝̠̦̅̊̾̽̽̓** **0** **̻̫̻̒̿̍̎ͧ** **1** **̹̝̝͓** **1** **̰͔̜ͣ̇ͫͨ̇͌̚** **1** **͈̖̰̤̦̠͓͐ͦ͆̒** **0̈́̑** **̠̘͔͙̪ͯ͂ͬ͒̚** **̏** **̳͚̫̞̹̩̪ͣͤ̾̈́** **0** **͊** **̃** **ͣ͒̑̍̋** **1** **̬̗͔̥̘͍͍͛̊̔̈́̑̄** **0̀̋** **ͪ̅** **̀** **͔̺͈͔͕͕** **0** **ͪ** **́** **̟̫͈͓̩̞ͧ͑̽** **̣0** **̐ͮ̈** **̃** **̳̞̙̝͇̩ͦ͌̓** **1** **͕̅̅͒͌̋͗** **0** **̹̠̟͕͍̫ͮͣ̄̆** **1** **̙̐ͣ̊** **̼̼͖̬͚ͤ** **0** **̍** **̉** **͙̻͔̗͎̟̦** **1** **̼͇̯͔** **0** **͎̤̖̦̤̐͐̓** **0** **̖̙̦̩̫̦̠ͮ̓̑͛** **1** **ͨ̇͐̑** **1** **̪̗͚̭** **1** **̱̭͔̱̳͊̋̈́ͭͧ** **0** **͓̱̥̹̼̹͉̅͋͋** **̯̺̱͔** **0** **̺̤͎͓̥̔̏̓** **1̇̀** **̤̩̐ͥ̈̍** **0** **ͬͥͬ** **̃** **͔̥̪̪̥** **1** **̽ͨ** **̀** **͍̝̲̘̹͊ͣ̈́͛** **0** **̹͗** **1̏** **̅ͯ** **̉** **̬͇ͫ̿** **0** **̞͍̹̺̘ͣ̌̆͗ͪ** **0** **̜͚͑ͩ̐** **ͭͦ** **̃** **̥̦͚͉** **0** **̫̥̙̬̒͋ͫ̑̆** **0̈** **̿̌** **̃** **͇̂** **1̆** **̽** **̉** **̳̦** **0** **̹̮ͩ̇** **1** **ͤ̓ͣ** **1** **ͨ** **̀** **̙̰͉͍͆ͬͥ** **1** **̝̠ͩ͐͐** **0̃** **̺͓** **͂ͤ͌̎** **̃** **̤͎̻̜** **0** **͉ͭ̊ͭ̈** **0̇** **̯̘̳̲̙** **1** **ͯ** **̀** **̲̪͙̾̽̾͊̚ͅ** **0̆** **̼̯̍ͅ** **0** **͕͈̮̬̯** **0** **͈̅̎̈́͛̽̍̚** **0** **͙͓̰͇͇̤͑̒̚ͅ** **0** **̠̝̒ͮ** **̅̒̓** **̉** **̟͓͙̯̗̓** **0** **̬̝̅ͫ͋̎ͩͬ̚** **0** **͒** **̃** **̳̰͔̯̱ͩ̒͐̾** **1** **̭̜͆̊ͯ̚** **0̋** **͈̫͑̌̾̈́ͨ** **1̉** **̗̹͈̹͈̬̥͗̆̒̐** **1** **̺͉ͫͨ͛ͣͧͭ͒** **0** **̫̱͍͚̳͛͊̿̊͊͂** **1** **͂̅** **̀** **ͩ** **̉** **͍̻͍̮̫̱͓͌** **͓̤̺̤̽̈̂̈́** **0̈́̋** **̙͙̳͍̿̇͒̍** **0** **̟̯̩̞̞̟** **1** **͐̐̓** **̉** **̦̩̠̠̬͍ͧ̎** **0̋** **̬̖̠̪̲̯** **0̃** **̭̫̽͗̍ͣ̊** **0** **͙** **0̃** **̟̲͇̬̖̦̯ͪ** **0** **͔ͨ̆ͣ̆** **̬͕̹͆** **̣** **͙͔͇** **0** **̝̅ͭ̓** **0** **͌̋̔̎̔** **̣** **̼̱͉͖̠̰** **1̦** **̬̬** **1** **͚̒** **̣** **̺̠̬͎͙** **0** **͚̥̤̳͕͎̽̔̒ͥ̽͊̂** **0** **̺̺̫̎̽** **̣** **̩** **0** **ͨͤ͑** **́** **̯̰͎̜̬͈** **0̂́** **̟̺ͧͦ̄** **̎͊̎ͫ̽ͥ͑** **0** **ͣ** **̉** **̝̠̄̄̒̒ͧ** **0** **̥̥͎͉͍ͯ̊̎ͭ̑ͅ** **1** **̝̤͈̺̺̳͕ͨ̎̊̓ͨ̌̇** **1** **̰̯̝̩ͮ̎** **0** **͗̽̽** **̉** **̑̑** **0̌** **̜̩̦̲̤͚̠ͮ͗̑** **0** **̞͊̈́ͦ͑̆** **0** **ͭͣ̍̏** **̉** **̄̓** **ͫͮ̓͊̅** **́** **ͭ** **0** **ͨ** **0** **̱ͤ** **1** **̦̙ͤͬ̊** **1** **̦̰̳̗̗̾͛̓̿ͦ͗͗** **10̈́1** **̗͓̖͐͋̽̌̑ͨ** **0** **̮̝͍̤̘͛̄͗̇̿͋ͧͅ** **͙͉̝͛ͭ͑ͩͨ** **0** **̚** **̃** **̖ͦͥͫ** **̣** **͈** **0̇** **͉̜̳ͥ͐̏͊̇͊** **1** **̺̞̟̠̦̺ͦ̊ͮͤ͋̋ͣ** **1** **̫̤̝͔̭̱̐ͩ͐ͨ̂̏ͨ** **0** **̺̿̽̌̅** **0** **̯̍͛** **̣** **̯̬** **0** **̗͕̜͚͉̖͐ͣ̓͗ͅ** **0** **ͯͩ̄** **̉** **̹͔̝͇̺ͯ͌** **ͤͫ̋̓̍̽** **0** **̲ͨ̒̂** **0** **̹̜̠̹̓ͅ** **1** **̿** **̉** **̙̩̠̰͖̘̞̆ͦ** **1** **̽̐̾͒̏** **0** **̪ͥ̄ͧ̑** **0** **̭͈̪͇ͦ͂̈ͨ͗** **0** **̞̫͓͕̜̥̘ͥ** **0** **̩̞͉ͬͧ̈ͩ** **͕̲̞ͫ̌̊** **0** **̎̒** **́** **̇ͧ̋̈** **0** **̰͎͍̥ͣ͋̿ͧ** **1** **̟̤͖̦͍̦̤ͨ̏̆̆ͦ̓** **1̄** **̖̖͕͕̖** **1** **͚̻̻̪̲͖̍̐̚** **0** **̬̤̟̙̅ͥ̇̋̌** **1** **̐͑͛ͩ** **̣** **̟̗͉** **0** **̪̱͎̫̮̱ͅ** **͂** **̃** **̟͓͎̬** **0** **͗͋̔** **̃** **̯̹̙̭̓̂̓** **0̑** **͇** **̣** **̮̥** **̣1̥** **̩̟** **1** **̠̪̿͐ͧ** **0̏** **̲̭** **1** **͊̋** **̀** **͔̻͙̭̺** **0** **̐̔͐** **̣** **͖̞̘̤̝** **1** **̳̩̳** **ͯ** **̀** **͉͓̠̹̤̯ͮ̍** **0** **̦͙̱̓ͧ̚** **0** **͓͚͇ͧͥ** **1** **͓͎̲ͫͬ̈** **1** **̦͌ͤ͑̑̋̓** **0** **͙̗͙̼̰̥̺ͦ** **0** **̗͎̰͓̥͙̔͗ͪ͌̾̔** **0** **ͣ̆̚** **1̈** **͓͑͌ͯ̿̓̋ͅ** **]**

Hank sighed helplessly as one last stream appeared and he couldn’t help but feel that this was significant. It stayed even as the other symbols and characters faded away, seemingly holding strong even as everything else blinked out.

**[0** **͋̓̆ͣ̽̈́̈** **̣** **͉̤̝̞̭** **1** **ͤ** **̀** **ͬ̍̊͂̇** **0** **̬͖̽̒̓̚** **0** **̬̒͂̓** **1̀** **̒** **̃** **͌ͨ͒̓** **0** **͇̱̞̥͆͆** **̣0** **̤ͦ̿̓̄** **1̏** **ͤ͗̾̿ͮ** **̯͖̍̆̚** **0** **ͬ̓** **̀** **͎͈̤̤͔̙̒** **0** **ͩ̈͐** **̃́** **̼̈́͊** **1** **̼͉͔̻ͣͧ̓̅** **0** **̖͔̜ͣ̐̈** **0** **̲̖ͦͮ** **̣** **͕͓̺̳** **0̌̂** **̙̱̩ͯ** **0̀** **̪͉͊** **0** **͎̰** **̇** **̭̔** **0** **͖** **̣** **̭̭̯͈̳** **1** **̳͈̳̭̖͎͗** **0** **͛ͦ̋͑̌̅** **0** **̖̔** **1** **̫̮͈ͦ͌̄ͬͫ** **1** **͈͆̊̆̇ͪ̓̽** **0** **ͨ** **0̑** **͇̽̔̏̇** **͍̫̟̰̰̱̥͋** **0̄** **͕͗** **1** **̯̥͆̋** **0** **̚** **̃** **̮ͥ̚** **0** **ͪ** **́** **͍̠̟̙͚͚̙̄** **1** **̬̠͑ͬ̌ͬ̇̓̚** **1̱̑** **̹̰** **1̏** **̭̒̿ͤ** **̣** **̺͔** **1** **̗̯͋̄ͫͅ** **́** **͓̾** **̣** **̼̯̠̟** **0** **̥͍͈̞̦̽̓͆̌̇ͅͅ** **1** **̝̪͈̲̰̠̱ͯͥ͑̄̚** **0** **ͤ̐͂** **1** **̬͚̓** **0** **ͪ** **̃** **̮̌ͨͣ̌** **1̊** **̙͖̹̲̩̠͚̓̍̍̎ͦ** **1** **̯͔̤̘ͦ͒ͮ̈ͦ̆̔** **0** **̪̪** **̣** **̥̥̜** **̂** **̱ͯ̒͒͐** **̣** **͈** **0** **̲̩͎͊͌̎̅͆̋** **1** **̖͎̩ͤ̽̓ͣ̄̑** **0̈** **ͧͯ͂** **́** **̺͎̙̜̥** **0** **̩̹̱̻̖̘͕͛͒̂͊̓̍** **0̏̆̏** **̤ͤ̌ͣ** **̣** **͎̪̮** **1** **̐̎** **0** **̼̖̮͚̞̜̬̓̑** **1** **̻̠̦̳̭̝ͥ̂̒ͫͣ** **̉** **͙̠̘ͦͪ** **0** **͎͚̖͕̹̯͊̒̿̓̐** **0** **̩͉̥ͫ̐̌̚** **1** **͋** **̃** **͇͈ͫͥ** **0̑** **̔** **̃̀** **̠͍̺͈͓̌̌̽** **0̌** **ͯ** **0̈́̋̄0** **̻̦̓ͧ̋̽** **0** **ͮͯ** **́** **̭̹̞̱̮̥ͯ̚̚̚** **̩ͦͣ̈** **0** **͎̺̯̠̰͉̭ͮ̌͛̋͐̂̚** **1** **̽̂̇** **0** **̳͋͌̓** **1** **ͥ** **̉** **̞͚̊͆** **1̄** **̫̲ͥ** **0** **ͣͪ͂ͫ** **̃** **̲̬͚̝̥** **0** **̫̭͔̾̆̊̄** **1** **̻̘̞̜̩͕͐̌ͧͩ̌** **̄̄̄̏** **ͩͬ** **0̑** **̥͎̳͓͉̓̎** **1** **͌ͣͥ͊ͦ** **̃** **̰̪͎̦͈̍** **0** **̺͔̟̲̠͗̇ͥ̔** **0** **̬̾̅ͦ̅̍ͧ͗** **1̰̦́̇1** **̜͔͎ͅ** **1** **͔̼̓ͧ͆ͭ͌ͫ** **1** **͚̰̙͍** **̣** **ͅ** **͆** **0̃** **̟̟̥͓̟̺͛͆̽** **1** **̥͖͓̜͙̍̚** **0̌** **̼͚̥̭̞͓ͯ** **1̂̆̂̑̌** **͎̯̮ͩ** **0** **͎̜͚̻̩͓** **1̌̃** **̳̙̠** **̣** **̼̫̤** **0̉** **͚̭̟̪͔̘͂ͯ͌ͮ̈** **1** **ͮͯͥ** **̉** **̦͍̩̱͓͆͒** **̲̳̪̭̔ͨͧ̋** **0̇** **̮̹̞͛ͤ** **0** **̜͇̹͙̝͌͊̎ͮ̊** **1̉** **̤̟̬͈̪͎ͦ͌** **0** **̼̘͍͎̘͔͊ͫ͌̄̈ͭ** **1** **͎̰ͯ̍̎ͦ̇** **1̑** **̞͎̘̟̗** **0** **͉̬̱͍͍͛** **0** **ͧ̊͌͒** **̱̦̞͖ͨ** **̣** **͓** **0** **̫̻̩̮̘͕̝̍̅ͮ** **0** **̐** **̃** **̯͚͍͔͌ͅ** **1** **̿̒̑̂** **̃** **̥̓** **0** **ͪͬ** **0** **ͩ** **0** **͌** **́** **͖͂ͣ̿** **0̮** **͕̙̫̗̟̳** **0** **͕̬̹ͦ̒ͤ** **̺̻̤͍̙ͅ** **0̈́** **ͮ̆͋** **̉** **̮** **1** **̭̰͔̞͍ͮͥ͂̅̍ͬ** **0̑̈́** **ͯ͆̚** **0** **̜̙̰͖͎̲ͧ** **1** **̬̪͚̭̓ͣ̅͐** **0** **̝̫̙̋ͣͨ̚** **0̊̊̃** **̼̜̖** **0̑** **ͦͦ̈́̆** **͓͕̞͇ͧ̒ͦ̂** **0̱̦̈́́̑** **ͅ** **1̑** **̎̚** **̀** **͖̗̜̥͔** **0** **̙̅͒ͤ̇͆ͭ** **0̃** **̒̌̓** **̃** **̹̰͒͑** **̣0̌̂** **͖̲ͥ͛ͭ̾ͪ** **0** **̿͋̒̆** **0** **̾͆** **́** **̹͖ͅ** **1** **͉** **̈** **̿ͣ͒͛** **̃** **̩͎̯͖̇** **0̊** **̲̭̻̘̮͖͋̒** **1** **̦̭͓̺̤ͭ** **0** **̔** **́** **͖͍̿ͦ** **0** **̲̘̼̻ͧ̓͌̓͛̌** **1** **ͮ** **̉** **͕̭̌ͯͨ̓** **1** **̯̻̫͋͛** **1** **͗** **́́** **̩͕̯̩͔ͮ̋͆** **0̄** **͕̻͈̗͐͑** **̜ͧ̈ͫ** **0̋** **̺̜̜͍̼͈͙̓̿ͪ̚** **10** **̤̦̲̬̱͛ͥ** **0** **̎ͣ̋** **1** **̙͔͍̠̤͛ͣ** **0** **ͭͭ̒** **̱** **̼̭̺** **1** **̫̤͕̐ͤ̍͋ͥ̈́** **1** **̠̜̬̱̖͛͗̑̄̈** **͈̦̖̭̺̞ͅ** **0** **͆ͭ̂̊̓** **01̄** **͙̓** **0** **͌** **́** **̺̜̱** **1** **̪̟̼̙̠̬** **1** **͚** **1̈́** 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**1** **̝̰** **1** **ͨ̐̈́** **̈** **̖̞̟͙͙͙ͪ̍** **0** **ͮ̓** **̉** **̎** **̃** **̭̲͉** **1** **ͮ̏̌** **́** **̠̮ͮ͑̒** **0** **̰̾̌** **0** **̬̒͌̚** **̣1̂** **̠̗̓͊** **̣** **̫** **1** **͌ͭ̔** **̃** **̟ͬ̌ͅ** **1** **̬̝̖͌̋ͦ̾̌** **1** **̎͂͗ͦ͂** **̃** **̪͈̗** **̩̦̮** **̣** **͓͔͓** **0** **̲̻̟̐** **̣1** **̻͙ͤ͌ͦ̓ͬͤͯ** **0** **̖̻̲͈̼̎** **1** **̜̫̤̘̪̠̿̈́͒̎̌̎̅** **0̈̌** **̘͕** **̣0̏** **͕̦̥̙̦͉** **1̦̆** **͈͓** **0** **̠͕̲̭̺ͭ̊̄̈ͬ͒ͪ** **̜͓ͤ** **0** **͚̖͉** **1** **ͥ** **̃** **̩̭** **0** **̍** **̉** **͔̥̲̬̠** **1** **̜** **̣0** **̞̥̍̌͛̚** **0** **̹̝̰͔̼̝̬** **1̌** **̥͈̙͈̦̻̚** **0** **̟̪̜̩͎̭̫̓ͫͭ̚** **̥͍̝̮ͭ͒̈́ͦ̾ͧ͑** **0** **͐** **́** **̰̱̳̊ͮ̑͌** **̣1** **̽** **̀** **͉͖ͥͪ̒̄** **0̂̈** **͈͖̗̒** **1̋́̑̏̇** **̱̺̬͇̺͉͊** **1** **̍** **0** **̺̝̔͐̐̒ͯ̓ͅ** **0̈́** **̼͍̼͕͔̓̏̏ͨ͐͒** **1** **͊ͣ̂̊͂̓** **̗̩̞̫̙̫̜ͧͤ̄̓ͩ** **0** **͊͊** **̃** **̈̓** **0** **͉̞̳̘̠̦̥** **1** **̻͍̦͉̘ͩ̾̾** **0̭** **͙̳̘** **1** **ͪ̐̇̌** **̀** **͕̲͎̦** **1̉** **̩̍̂̓ͤ̔ͤ** **1** **̬̯̝̞̜̟̇̅ͩ̚** **0** **̙̒ͤͭ̌̅** **̯̳̯̙ͤ** **0** **̼͕͈̩̠̲̗͑ͯ** **0** **̞̦̍ͥͥ** **0̈́** **͙̠̹̼͚̞** **0** **ͬͪ̏ͯͧ͊** **1** **͍͇͍̺̫͍ͩ̂͗ͧ̍** **0** **̱̳͛̍͆͊̆̎ͥ** **1** **͔͉̲͒** **0** **̇̒ͦ̈́̚** **̉** **̝** **̉** **̜̱̠͉̹̺** **]**

  
Part of Hank was wondering if this mess of code had come about from him forcing the file to load without its companions. Had he just made things worse?

Still, sitting back and waiting wasn’t easy. Not now that his curiosity had been piqued. Something about that last string of binary was stirring at his gut and he was seriously contemplating copy the thread down to try and translate it. Just as he was convincing himself that it was the best course of action, another file quickly popped up. Though the type was still unfamiliar, it was different. Hank was hopeful that this one could be opened on its own.

It opened with no hassle, and Hank’s breath caught as he realised what it was. A still image taken from Connor’s optical feed from the morning they met after the revolution: where they’d reunited at the Chicken Feed. Hank saw himself standing there looking tense, staring out over the distance. More files were being unscrambled and he realised from the timestamps that they were all taken within the following ten seconds.

Connor had taken almost two dozen images of just _him_. Hank couldn’t understand it.

At the end of the segment Hank found another file type that he didn’t recognise, and it was a couple of seconds before he realised that it was the same as the one he’d force booted earlier. Unlike that one, however, this file wasn’t twinned with anything else and opened on its own. More streams of binary appeared and Hank swore. Fuck this, he needed to know what was going on. At least this lot wasn’t so badly scrambled and he could simply copy it down into a program online.

Hank’s eyes widened as he read the messages after he copied it all into the translator. These were Connor’s _thoughts._

**[MISSION SUCCESSFUL: REUNITE WITH HANK]**  
** [NEW MISSION #1: REMAIN WITH HANK]**  
** [NEW MISSION #2: ENSURE HANK REGAINS WILL TO LIVE]**

_Oh fuck._

Even then Connor had taken it upon himself to try and convince Hank to find a reason to live again. Why? They had barely known each other then, surely Connor had other priorities?

Now that he knew a little better what he was looking at, Hank finally decided that he was going to wait. More files were slowly being decrypted and with it, he could hopefully gain more of a picture of what was going on. Unfortunately they seemed to be going in mostly chronological order: Connor’s earliest memories were being unscrambled faster than his later ones.

Another reason to wait.

_This’ll be worth it though – I need to know what it was that he wanted me to see. Why did Connor share all of this with me?_

* * *

There wasn’t much Hank could do to keep himself amused in the house. All it held was remnants of his own guilt, a lot of drink and plenty of temptation when he saw the ammunition lying around. Unwilling to give in to any of it, he took Sumo out for a couple of hours.

It didn’t do much to pull Hank’s thoughts away from what his computer was proceeding to unscramble, but at least he wasn’t just staring at the screen anymore. Forget a watched pot never boils, it was a stared at computer never gives you an answer.

And, _fuck, _did Hank ever need some. He had to know what happened to Connor – whether there was anything else he could have done.

Arriving back, he’d barely let Sumo off his leash when he sat back down at the computer, seeing that there were now _thousands _of files. He winced at the volume and decided that viewing them all just wasn’t possible. Maybe all he could do was pick a specific type and go through all of them as a starting point?

Well, he knew what the file extension of all the stills from Connor’s optical feed looked like. That sounded like as good a place as any to start.

Once he’d sorted all of the files by type, Hank looked through the timestamps from their time of creation to try and get some idea of when they were taken. Most of them drew up a blank but a few stood out. With great trepidation Hank clicked on the first one he had chosen: it was the day that Connor had been reinstated at the DPD.

As suspected, Connor had saved a lot of the welcome back hugs and greetings he’d received, but there were a lot of other images which caught Hank off guard. Somehow, and he didn’t know how, Connor had saved over 300 pictures of Hank smiling proudly, happily or affectionately.

_Holy shit, did I really look like that the whole day? He’s taken these over the course of 6 hours, so I must have done…_

Hank really hadn’t realised it until then, but the day that he’d got Connor back as his partner had been one of his favourites for a long time. Connor had reignited his passion for police work, for a lot of things really.

Coming out of those, Hank noticed that there were another thousand or so saved from a date not too long after it. Opening them, Hank gasped as he realised it was the day that Connor had helped Hank clear out Cole’s old bedroom at last. Cole had loved the ‘cool’ factor of having a converted garage for a room – it was a large part of the reason Hank had never touched a thing. It would forever be Cole’s space, Hank had no need for the additional storage.

Connor had convinced Hank that emptying out the space would be a large step towards his healing. It hadn’t been easy and Hank wasn’t proud of some things he’d said to Connor in the build-up to it, but the android had been right. Not having everything right there beyond just the door had made things easier to accept in the long run.

He hadn’t realised just how much Connor had been watching them as they cleared everything out though. More than a few times Hank came across a picture of himself getting emotional and had to wonder at why Connor’s own optical images were overlaid with what he thought was static. It took a few seconds to figure it.

_No way, Connor was getting upset at seeing **me **grieving for Cole. **Fuck.**_

The realisation poured oil on the burning guilt in Hank’s heart. With every image and conclusion about Connor’s feelings, Hank was beginning to realise that rejecting Connor’s confession had done wrong by both of them. As much as Hank thought that he might have been sparing Connor the burden of his presence, he was now wondering just what emotional pain he’d caused instead.

Unable to stop his thoughts from jumping down that rabbit hole, Hank kept looking through all the stills. Countless thousands were there, but as he opened up previews Hank came to a startling truth.

More than 80% of them were of him. Connor had isolated all of these for a reason, and Hank couldn’t get over just how many images of himself there were. Anything from drinking his coffee, to him laughing at a joke they shared…The small private smiles that were between them alone, nights spent talking about everything and nothing on the couch.

_Oh fuck, I had no idea all of this meant so much to him. **Fucking Christ, **Con, what did I **do **to you?_

Hank couldn’t take it anymore. He promptly backed out and sorted the filed by date of creation instead.

He had to know just how much he’d broken Connor’s heart.

With a shaking hand, Hank opened up what he guessed was a video file of their discussion. Much to his surprise and anxiety, it was a display of everything Connor had seen out of his optical units combined with his HUD. Readings about Hank’s vitals and health were flashing up, along with warnings about how Connor’s thirium pump had been stuttering in the run up.

Connor had been a nervous wreck. Hank’s heart broke a little more.

Muting the computer because he couldn’t bear to hear the mistaken words again, Hank watched in horror at seeing so many alerts flash up on Connor’s HUD. They were so numerous that Hank struggled to see through the sea of red, letter and numbers. Heart crying out, he watched as Connor left and saw the android had actually walked to the end of the street before coming to a complete standstill. Another message appeared on his display, which had Hank almost in tears.

**[MISSION FAILED: BE WORTHY OF HANK’S ROMANTIC INTEREST]  
[MISSION FAILED(?): REMAIN WITH HANK]**

“Oh fuck- Con, you didn’t really think that I would cut you out after you admitted that, did you?” Hank asked out loud, but he could see from the video file that Connor really _had _believed it. Connor thought he’d gambled everything on telling Hank that he wanted more than friendship. “Jesus, I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t do more to reassure you, that I-”

A sob caught in Hank’s throat and he was barely holding on to stop from crying. “I should never have been a coward. I should have tried to be better for you- Fuck, I really, _really, _hope I can prove that to you.”

Taking a deep breath (and not willing to see just how long Connor had stood in the night air as he tried to process everything), Hank finally brought up the completed files from the fuck up that was the surveillance mission. Unlike most of the other files Connor had uploaded to Hank’s phone, this was _everything _from the operation. Audio, visuals, readouts…

Hank knew he couldn’t watch all of it, he didn’t have the heart for it, so he instead advanced to the last ten minutes of the files and let go of the mouse. Watching this again was going to break him, but he had to know. Something had to have gone so badly wrong for Connor to have been left in that position with the other android. He’d been watching them for days, so why…

Hearing his own voice barking at Connor was sobering for Hank and he winced, but then he realised something: Connor had got what they’d been looking for. He’d managed to get close enough for the evidence which would bring the group down. Unfortunately one of the other androids involved in the surveillance op had also tried to move in closer to help Connor out, only to be spied. With their cover blown, Connor had opened fire in an effort draw all the attention to himself.

_Goddammit Connor, you self-sacrificing bastard. Why did you put yourself at such risk?!_

Spying a minimised prompt on Connor’s HUD, Hank froze the footage and enlarged it, only to wish seconds later that he’d never seen it. A great rent tore in his heart and some tears finally leaked free.

**[PRIMARY MISSION: ACQUIRE EVIDENCE VIA SURVEILLANCE – COMPLETE]**  
**[SECONDARY MISSION: DRAW ATTENTION FROM ANDROID COMPANIONS TO ALLOW THEIR ESCAPE – UNDERWAY]**  
** [TERTIARY MISSION: PROVE CAPABILTIES AND PROFICIENCY TO HANK – UNDERWAY]**

“Christ, no…Con, please don’t tell that you put yourself at risk to make yourself feel worthy,” Hank begged brokenly. “Fuck, what did I **_do _**to you?”

Pressing play on the footage again, Hank watched in fear as Connor deftly dodged all the gunfire aimed at him and was in awe of the android’s skills. He successfully evaded everything with ease and was keeping well out of danger.

_So how…?_

Hank soon realised that he’d played a far worse part in Connor’s demise than he could have ever dreamed.

An alert flashed on Connor’s HUD of his barked instructions as they were preparing to breach the area, and he stared in shock as the words overlaid everything else in a haze of grey and red.

**[INTERCEPT. PROTECT HANK AT ALL COSTS.]**

Connor burst out from his cover and threw himself straight at the attacking android which had fired right at them, to which Hank had to look away. It was an SQ800 model designed for combat, and as much as Connor was a highly capable android, he didn’t stand a chance in a hand-to-hand fight. Not against that. As he heard the rending of metal and plastic, the extra gunshots tearing through Connor’s chassis and his partner’s cries of pain, Hank let out shuddering sobs.

“Fuck, Con, you shouldn’t have thrown yourself in harm’s way for **_me_**. Not after what I did to you…”

The footage caught up with what Hank remembered of finding Connor, broken and dying, and he winced at the alert which flashed on Connor’s HUD as he tried to move.

**[SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: - 00:00:51]**

Time ticked away all too rapidly and Hank watched with a hollow heart as he saw Connor futilely try to speak. Alerts appeared to warn Connor of the condition of his voice box, to which he interfaced with the phone. Hank saw the progress bar of the download creep up as his impending doom ticked down.

It was as the last line of thought appeared that Hank finally broke completely, struck by complete and utter anguish.

**[I LOVE YOU, HANK. I'M SORRY.]**

Ugly howls tore from Hank’s throat and chest as he cried out his own grief all over again, only this time the true gravity of his own feelings from Connor had finally broken free. They were no longer buried beneath the weight of the ghosts which had chained Hank’s heart: and it only served to make everything a thousand times worse.

“I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m **_so. Fucking. Sorry,_**” Hank bawled into the empty house, not even realising that Sumo was crying out in confusion at hearing Hank’s agony.

_Fuck this goddamn world. Fuck it all._

* * *

When the call finally came through from Fowler that Connor’s repairs were finished, Hank wasn’t really sure how long he’d been in a drunken stupor. Since his breakdown, he’d spent the entirety of the time buried at the bottom of a whisky bottle. He’d almost lost his resolve and went looking for the revolver in a completely misplaced want to atone for all he’d done to Connor, but he’d kept enough wits to realise that it was a poor gesture. Killing himself out of guilt would be the exact wrong thing to do if Connor returned to him.

The android had sacrificed himself to save Hank’s life. Throwing that away without seeing this through would be a complete mockery of that.

Hank just about managed to realise that seeing Connor completely drunk was a bad idea, so he took a leaf out of the android’s book and dunked himself into an ice cold bath to sober up. It was by no means pleasant, but it gave Hank enough of his faculties back to prepare for whatever lay ahead.

He took almost nothing from the house as he jumped into an auto-taxi to the repair centre, but the journey there was torture. Until they reactivated Connor, they had no idea whether the android that Hank had known was still inside. It could be Connor, or it could be a rest RK800 that awaited him.

50-50 chance.

After checking into the centre, Hank was asked to wait just outside the repair wing as they went to get Fowler’s permission to let him through. While scoffing at the bureaucratic nonsense, it did give Hank the chance to stare at one of the few things he’d taken from the house.

Connor’s former coin. He twirled it between his fingers before eventually realising that there was maybe somewhat of an ironic symbolism to it.

50-50 chance. Heads or tails. Life or death.

One side would mean having Connor back, and with it Hank would have the chance to set things between them right. The other would leave Hank with nothing but heartbreak, guilt and an endless pit of misery.

“Guess it’s time to see what fate has in store for us, Connor.”

Hank flipped the coin, watching with bated breath as it sailed through the air to land on the cold ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three corrupted messages were these:
> 
> 01001001 01001110 01010100 01000101 01010010 01000011 01000101 01010000 01010100 00101110 00100000 01010000 01010010 01001111 01010100 01000101 01000011 01010100 00100000 01001000 01000001 01001110 01001011 00100000 01000001 01010100 00100000 01000001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01000011 01001111 01010011 01010100 01010011 00101110 = INTERCEPT. PROTECT HANK AT ALL COSTS.
> 
> 01010011 01001000 01010101 01010100 01000100 01001111 01010111 01001110 00100000 01001001 01001101 01001101 01001001 01001110 01000101 01001110 01010100 00101110 00100000 00101101 00100000 00110000 00110000 00111010 00110000 00110000 00111010 00110101 00110001 = SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: - 00:00:51
> 
> 01001001 00100000 01001100 01001111 01010110 01000101 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00101100 00100000 01001000 01000001 01001110 01001011 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100111 01001101 00100000 01010011 01001111 01010010 01010010 01011001 00101110 00001010 = I LOVE YOU, HANK. I'M SORRY.
> 
> I think you guys can tell where this is heading, but I'm going to tell it straight up here. I'll be uploading both ending chapters together on Saturday, so depending on if you want the Good/Bad ending, here's your mantra to remember.
> 
> Heads, you live.  
Tails, you...


	5. Heads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so here's ending one: Heads.
> 
> This is the good ending, the one where Hank gets his chance to correct things with Connor. It's an emotional get together, but I think you guys know by now that this story is packed full of emotion.
> 
> No serious tags here apart from talk of Hank's alcoholism and a lot of crying. Be braced for these boys being soft with each other.

_Heads._

An inexplicable relief burst through Hank at seeing the result of the coin toss. Throughout his whole life he’d been a man to pick heads – whenever he had the choice of a coin toss, heads was his default. Finding that it had landed on his preference had to be a good sign…

Right?

“Hank?” The lieutenant looked up at the calling of his name and found Fowler staring at him inquisitively. After bending down to pick up the coin and keeping it firmly in the warmth of his hand, Hank approached the other man.

“Jeffrey,” he greeted sharply while looking around Fowler to peer into the room. “We all good to attempt a reboot?”

“Yeah, they’re all set for it,” Fowler confirmed while leading Hank inside. “The technicians are still none the wiser as to the chances of Connor still being in there or not, so I guess all I can say is to…brace yourself.” His eyes narrowed at Hank and Fowler surveyed him knowingly. “You look worse than when I last saw you.”

Despite the uncertainty lingering around, Hank had sudden courage from that coin toss. Gripping the object tighter than was probably healthy, he coughed awkwardly. “I’ve had a bad few days, waiting to see the results of this hadn’t been pleasant.” No way was he going to elaborate on exactly _why _he’d been so rough. That was a private issue between himself and Connor.

“I know Connor means a lot to you, but I haven’t seen you so bad since…” Fowler let the sentence rest but Hank realised that the other man had picked up a lot from his behaviour.

_Since you last lost someone you loved._

Was he really one of the last people to figure it out? Maybe others had guessed that Hank loved Connor to some degree, but he doubted that any of them realised just how deep it went. It was only somewhere in between drunken stupors and self-loathing that Hank had realised the truth for himself.

He’d not just loved Connor as a friend, he’d fallen _in _love with him. The weight of all the guilt, ghosts and hatred that Hank had carried with him for years had blinded him to possibility until now.

Hank really hoped that it wasn’t too late – he owed it to Connor to tell the android the truth, let alone have a shot at potentially fixing things between them.

“Well, you’re right about that, Jeffrey, I haven’t been this bad with the drink for a long time. Now I guess I’m about to find out whether I’m diving right back into another bottle or not,” Hank told him bluntly, to which Fowler sighed. It was times like this that Hank wondered why Fowler hadn’t just fired him yet. Any other sensible person would have long ago, let alone standing by Hank when he had essentially admitted he was relapsing. Hank was immensely grateful when Fowler just sighed, shook his head, and then their attention was on Connor.

Considering the mess Connor had been in the last time Hank had seen him, it was quite jarring to see the android all but pristine now. The gouge in his cheek was gone, his arm had been replaced and the bullet holes seemed to have never existed. What had once been a sea of blue covering Connor as he all but drowned in his own blood was now gone, and all that remained was the android hanging limply from the maintenance rack. Hank would never get used to seeing them strung up like an almost ritualistic offering, but at least Connor was covered by what looked like a hospital gown.

Now the agonising bit – seeing which side of the coin Connor was going to land on too. Was he heads, or was he tails?

Fowler nodded at the technician who had been standing at the side of the room patiently and the two of them watched as the screens all around Connor burst back into life. Streams of binary and coding spiralled across them, all of which left Hank feeling a little bit dizzy. He’d seen glimpses of this from looking through Connor’s data in the past days but the reality of it in front of him right now was a little staggering.

Several bleeps came from Connor, and Hank inhaled sharply when he saw the dead LED burst back to life in a yellow glow. His breath caught as he watched it spiral and flash on the colour for several seconds until it finally settled back into blue.

The technician approached Connor and surveyed him carefully as the android continued booting up. “RK800, can you hear me?” she asked softly.

“Affirmative,” came the strong reply and Hank’s breath caught at hearing Connor’s voice again. _Fuck_, he’d missed it.

“RK800, identify yourself,” she went on, to which Hank swallowed hard. Moment of truth.

His heart rate eased significantly as Hank heard the way that Connor confidently answered. “My name is Connor, RK800 #313 248 371 – 52. I’m a detective at the Detroit Police Department and suffered from a shutdown due to damage suffered on a surveillance operation.”

Connor’s eyes shifted from the technician to meet Hank’s own and the lieutenant made no effort to hide how emotional he was at Connor’s recovery, the android deserved better than that. His honest responses must have been appreciated because the android gave Hank a tentative, but genuine smile in response.

Everything seemed to speed past Hank after that. Relief and a slight disbelief coursed through his body as he vaguely acknowledged the technician running through several tests with Connor to check all his responses to stimuli and inputs. He wasn’t entirely sure how long had passed by the point that Connor was being lowered from the maintenance rig and released from all the mechanical arms.

Hank had barely let Connor take three steps before he wrenched the android into what would have been a bone-crushing hug for a human, shaking slightly at the realisation that he was all right.

From how Connor instantly responded and embraced Hank just as tightly, the human was sure that the android was just as relieved to see him. They had so much to talk about when they got back to Hank’s, but at least they had that opportunity now.

Luck had _finally _gone Hank’s way.

* * *

It was only an hour later that they made it back to the house, Fowler letting the pair go with no hassle once he learned from Connor that all of the recordings and evidence from the surveillance operation had survived intact. Not only that, but Connor sent it all on and showed Fowler the locations oh where he’d stored all the files on the DPD servers.

Knowing that Hank and Connor needed time, Fowler waved them off with orders to reappear for midday the next day and not a minute earlier. Hank had jumped at the chance and sent Fowler a grateful message just before they hopped in the auto-taxi back to the house.

Though the pair were silent on the journey, it was by no means uncomfortable. Connor had been a little nervous to begin with but Hank had rested a hand on the android’s led to reassure him, which broke through any awkwardness between them. They shared a small smile before going back to their own thoughts.

They had barely stepped in the front door before Sumo perked up at realising Hank wasn’t alone and made a beeline for Connor. Crouching down, Connor petted the large St Bernard happily as Hank went through to the kitchen and made himself a coffee. After all the alcohol he’d consumed over the past few days, he was making a concerted effort to stay off it for Connor’s sake.

Not that he’d made any effort to hide the evidence of his misery: the way Connor’s LED strobed red upon finding the countless bottles strewn over the living room and kitchen made Hank’s heart ache. “Con, can we talk?” he asked hoarsely, sitting down at the table and gently pushing a chair out for Connor.

Red gave way to a slowly circling yellow as Connor weighed up the suggestion. Hank was immensely relieved when Connor decided to accept the invitation and sat down next to him. “You haven’t been looking after yourself,” the android pointed out astutely, to which Hank laughed brokenly.

“What was your first clue on that one?” he rumbled bitterly. “The fact that I’m hungover to fuck, the stench of alcohol and days old sweat on me, or the dozens of bottles all over the place?”

“Would you think poorly of me if I said all of the above?” Connor smiled tightly, trying his best to make light of the situation. Hank let out another harsh bark, but his heart fluttered at the android’s attempt.

“Hell no, cause you’d be damn right on all accounts. I mean-Fuck’s sake, Connor. You died in my arms. I didn’t know if I’d lost you forever,” Hank told him honestly, to which the android’s LED flashed red.

“I…I didn’t realise that my shutdown would affect you to such a degree, Hank. Given how things are-were,” Connor corrected himself, “I was unsure how you would react.”

Heart aching, Hank reached a hand over to place it on top of Connor’s on the android’s lap. Connor’s eyes shot up to meet Hank’s in shock and the older man gave him a tentative smile.

“Connor, fuck the rest of the shit that went on and that tension which was between us. After everything we’ve been through and seen together, did you not think that it would utterly break me if I lost you?” he asked emotionally. When Connor didn’t answer him, Hank sighed and moved so that his hand wasn’t simply resting on his partner’s anymore, but was instead holding it.

The android’s LED went red for a few seconds and then blinked back to yellow as confusion settled over his face. “Hank?” he asked quietly, and the older man could see the fearful hope on his face.

“You know, there’s always been something I’ve wondered,” Hank started slowly. “Is it lying if you only tell half a truth, or is it just wilful omission? Guess it depends on how misleading you are and your intention behind it, right?” Connor continued to look at him blankly, so Hank swallowed hard and finally admitted the truth that he’d owed Connor from the start of this whole mess between them.

“Given how much my hiding from reality almost cost me, I might as well have lied to you the last time we were here, Connor.” He looked up and met the android’s eyes as he laced their fingers gently. “You’re not the only one who feels something, but I was too much of a damn coward to admit it before. I’d convinced myself that if anyone got that close to me again, I’d end up dooming them. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved, Connor, and I didn’t want to condemn you because of how close we are.”

“Hank…” Connor’s fingers gripped back tentatively and Hank could finally see some hope seep into his gaze. “That’s not how the world works. Or at least, it isn’t from what I’ve seen of it.”

Laughing sorrowfully, Hank’s eyes filled with moisture. He just about held back on the tears for the moment though. “Maybe not, but perception is fucking weird thing, Con. I…I can’t ever forget my role in the events that cost me the most important person in my life, and I thought history had just fucking repeated itself with you. Yet again, I thought I’d lost someone I loved through my own actions.”

Connor physically jolted at the revelation and Hank offered him a sad smile. “I thought that I was too burdened by the ghost of Cole, of everything else I’ve lost over the years. It was only after I looked everything you left of yourself on my phone that I realised just how fucking _selfish _I’d been. All I achieved was making sure I would be forever alone, I didn’t think about how much I would hurt you in rejecting you when I felt the same way. In all honesty, I was subconsciously trying to run from it because I don’t think I can live through that pain again. I can’t-”

A sob caught in Hank’s throat. He just about swallowed it back down but the dam finally broke; crying silently, he held Connor’s hand as tight as he could. “I owe you better than being a damn coward. Connor…can you forgive a stupid, old man and maybe give me a second chance? I’m shit scared, but after having been left these past days facing a world without you, I want to try. Can you find it in your heart to let me in again?”

Hank didn’t expect tears to fall from Connor’s own eyes, but he willingly held the android when he dove forward for a hug. “There’s nothing to forgive, Hank, I can completely understand your thinking now that you’ve explained it. I want to learn what life could be like at your side as more than just a friend and work partner. I…I love you,” Connor confessed softly.

He whined when Hank pulled away and brought their lips together in a heartfelt kiss without hesitation. “I love you too, Con, and I’m so sorry it took this before I figured out just what that meant. I promise I’ll do everything I can to atone for my role in what you’ve been through.”

While Connor would never hold it against Hank, the older man would always hold himself to that standard from that day forward.

The coin never left his pocket as a permanent reminder of that – but he’d never dare flip it again. Hank was terrified that fate might take Connor away again should it ever land tails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A coin always has two sides.
> 
> This is the good, but there's the bad to go with it. I'm not expecting everyone to read it, I know a lot of you won't, but for those who want to see the other version...head to the final chapter.
> 
> Please be aware if you do, however, it will break your heart all over again.
> 
> For those who wish to leave the fic here, you can come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SkyeWillows) and [Tumblr](https://skyewillows.tumblr.com), or you can ask for my Discord to scream at me on there!
> 
> All those who wish to continue...I'd have tissues on standby. The final chapter is rough.


	6. Tails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's ending two: Tails.
> 
> Please be aware - **this chapter is the bad ending, and does not shy away from the harsh reality of an alcoholic with a history of suicide attempts coming to terms with another severe loss in his life**.
> 
> **Tags for this chapter**: Guilt issues, alcoholism, mild hallucination and suicide attempt.

_Tails._

A shard of ice ripped through Hank’s stomach at seeing that. Fuck, his default choice when it came to a coin flip was always heads. All through his life, Hank had always wanted heads as a gut instinct.

But that couldn’t be a sign for right now, could it? It was just a 50-50 chance which side it could land on: a coin flip done on a whim wasn’t going to have any bearing on Connor’s survival.

Right?

“Hank?” The lieutenant looked up at the calling of his name and found Fowler staring at him inquisitively. He ducked down to snatch the coin from the ground and shoved it into his pocket, refusing to dwell on the result. Whatever was coming had already been dictated from the moment Connor shut down, nothing was going to change the direction of fate now.

“Jeffrey,” he greeted sharply while looking around Fowler to peer into the room. “We all good to attempt a reboot?”

“Yeah, they’re all set for it,” Fowler confirmed while leading Hank inside. “The technicians are still none the wiser as to the chances of Connor still being in there or not, so I guess all I can say is to…brace yourself.” His eyes narrowed at Hank and Fowler surveyed him knowingly. “You look worse than when I last saw you.”

Hank wasn’t going to say anything to address that, especially not now that some of the lingering beer in his stomach had soured.

_I’m fucking overreacting._

“I’ve had a bad few days, waiting to see the results of this hasn’t been pleasant.” No way was he going to elaborate on exactly _why _he’d been so rough. That was a private issue between himself and Connor, and Hank was going to fix that once the android was back.

“I know Connor means a lot to you, but I haven’t seen you so bad since…” Fowler let the sentence rest but Hank realised that the other man had picked up a lot from his behaviour. Fowler really did know him too well, and Hank could work out the rest of the words without much prompting.

Was he really one of the last people to figure it out? Maybe others had guessed that Hank loved Connor to some degree, but he doubted that any of them realised just how deep it went. It was only somewhere in between drunken stupors and self-loathing that Hank had realised the truth for himself.

Still, he wasn’t going to think on that now. Work through the ramifications of being in love with Connor once he had the android back. Hank was refusing to consider the possibility that it was an ‘if’, even is his gut feeling was telling him otherwise.

“Well, you’re right about that, Jeffrey, I haven’t been this bad with the drink for a long time. Now I guess I’m about to find out whether I’m diving right back into another bottle or not,” Hank told him bluntly, to which Fowler sighed. It was times like this that Hank wondered why Fowler hadn’t just fired him yet. Any other sensible person would have long ago, let alone standing by Hank when he had essentially admitted he was relapsing.

In all brutal honesty, Hank knew that he was lying to Fowler. Either way, he wasn’t going to be seeing the bottom of another bottle. There were only two scenarios here – Connor was going to wake up and Hank was going to make damn sure that he worked his ass off to be the best he could be for the android, or he was going to be grabbing his revolver and spinning that damn barrel until it finally fired.

With his stomach in such knots Hank refused to survey all the changes to Connor properly. He couldn’t face staring at the android and remembering the sheer _mess _Connor had been in before. Once the android was back and Hank’s overactive imagination stopped running away with itself, he could dwell on that.

Fowler nodded at the technician who had been standing at the side of the room patiently and the two of them watched as the screens all around Connor burst back into life. Streams of binary and coding spiralled across them, all of which left Hank feeling a little bit dizzy. He’d seen glimpses of this from looking through Connor’s data in the past days but the reality of it in front of him right now was a little staggering.

Several bleeps came from Connor, and Hank inhaled sharply when he saw the dead LED burst back to life in a yellow glow. His breath caught as he watched it spiral and flash on the colour for several seconds, before blinking red twice. It then came to rest on a perfectly steady blue, not so much as a blink.

Hank really didn’t like it. Everything inside him was screaming that something was _wrong_.

The technician approached Connor and surveyed him carefully as the android continued booting up. “RK800, can you hear me?” she asked softly.

“Affirmative,” came the reply and Hank’s breath caught at hearing Connor’s voice again. It wasn’t right, it sounded too…mechanical.

“RK800, identify yourself,” she went on, but Hank’s heart was leaden and dead in his chest.

He already knew what was coming, but hearing the words ground the shattered remains of his heart into dust.

“I am Connor, RK800 #313 248 371 – 52. I am an android designed by CyberLife for the investigation and apprehension of deviants. Data about the destruction of the previous Connor model is unavailable, troubleshooting engaged to trace source of fault before resuming mission,” Connor replied plainly.

The room was deathly silent. As the technician slumped, Fowler’s eyes were zeroed in on Hank, who had stepped forward slowly so that he was face-to-face with Connor.

No, this wasn’t Connor anymore. It was simply an RK800.

Hank’s Connor was dead: he’d died in the older man’s arms days ago.

“I’m sorry,” the technician whispered. “There was always a chance of a full system and memory reset given the damage, but I was hopeful. I’m…” She tailed off at the lack of response but both the other men were rather preoccupied.

Fowler stepped up so that he was right at Hank’s side, but the lieutenant’s gaze had never wavered from the brown eyes of the RK800. Soulless and empty, there was no trace that his Connor had ever existed. It broke Hank’s heart even more than the fact that Connor was gone. At least when a human died there was something that proved who they were and that they’d been part of the world…Connor had been completely erased.

_Fuck this world. Fuck the fact that he’s an android and can be lost in an instant without so much as a remnant of who he was._

_I’m so fucking sorry, Con. I wish to fuck that you’d never met me, maybe then you wouldn’t have befallen the same fate as Cole._

“Hank-”

“Save it, Jeffrey,” Hank interrupted, voice completely void of emotion. “No matter what you say, it’s now going to change a damn thing.”

“I know that,” Fowler went on as he placed a hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I was just going to say that you can take all the time you need to process this.”

A hollow laugh mixed with despair tore from Hank’s throat and he shook his head in hysterical laughter. “Process _what_? That I did this? That my own actions cost the life of someone I love yet again?”

Clamping down on the emotion, Hank stared at Connor for another few seconds before he raised a hand and cupped the android’s cheek. It didn’t so much as react, just continued to stare ahead as if Hank wasn’t even there.

“I hope that you’re somewhere, Con, and that you can maybe find it in yourself to forgive me, someday. You were the last person in the world to fucking deserve this.”

* * *

Well, he might have lied to Fowler before, but he wasn’t lying to himself anymore. Hank had spent too fucking long doing that: ever since Cole had died, really. He’d always been running from something.

His own guilt, his responsibility and role in everything that had happened. How much of a failure he’d become because he didn’t know how to ask for help. Now he could add not learning from the worst mistakes of his life to the never ending list.

Seriously, when was it ever going to be enough? That was yet another innocent life on Hank’s conscience now, another lost soul because he was like a poison that killed everything around him.

Sumo approached Hank as he wandered back in the front door, sniffing at him sorrowfully as he sensed the older man’s dark aura. He whined lowly before heading through the house to take solace in Hank’s bedroom.

_I wonder if he knows what I’m about to do and doesn’t want to see it. Probably a good call on his part._

Hank had been sitting contemplating everything in the taxi ride back, and now that he was in the house it wasn’t even something he was truly wondering about anymore. This whole place was practically a shrine to all of Hank’s failures, a ground for ghosts to fester and swirl as they haunted him.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Not even ten minutes later Hank sat down at the kitchen table, having fetched his old friend the revolver from where it had been locked. It was sat down along with the picture of Cole which had been his eternal companion ever since Hank had started playing Russian Roulette, but this time there was a new addition.

In honour of the new loss which had redefined Hank’s life once again, he retrieved Connor’s coin and set it down next to the picture of his son. Both the great loves of his life side-by-side.

_Fuck, how I wish I could have kept one of you, let alone both. How I wish I could trade my life for both of yours._

Tears threatened at Hank’s eyes again but he forced them back mercilessly as he fetched the ammunition that he’d bought after Connor shut down. Turning back to the table, Hank’s breath caught as he swore he was seeing a ghost.

He was – Connor was gone, he wasn’t sitting in the seat next to his own with a lazy smile on his face. It was scene that used to be regular for them, but it had been lost because Hank was a selfish bastard who couldn’t ever do the right thing.

Well, maybe he could do something to redress the balance now.

Once he’d sat back down, Hank pulled out his phone and sent Fowler a message. Told him all about Connor’s memories and the data which had been uploaded to Hank’s computer. Maybe this was why Connor had passed all of it on to Hank’s phone? An insurance policy for if he couldn’t be restored? It tore at Hank’s heart even more to think that Connor knew he might not come back, but at least Connor’s death didn’t have to be totally senseless now.

Everything he’d accumulated from the surveillance operation had survived in some form. Connor’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain, the group would still be brought to justice.

But Hank had no intention of seeing it: he didn’t want to either.

Looking away from the screen and turning the phone to silent, Hank opened the revolver to load it before inspiration struck him. His eyes landed upon the coin and a thought resonated deeply with him.

_They had 50-50 chances…maybe I’ve been doing this wrong all along._

Running with that thought, Hank loaded three of the six chambers instead of one. Now he too had a 50-50 shot.

Spinning the chamber before blindly flipping it closed, Hank’s other hand reached out for Connor’s coin. As he set the gun, his eyes shifted from the photograph of Cole to the ghost of Connor sitting just next to him. Maybe they’d finally given him the inspiration he needed to earn his freedom and penance.

“Time to see which side I land, heads or tails. Hopefully you’re both waiting there for me.”

Hank flipped the coin as he pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which side of the coin did it land on for Hank? Heads or tails? With his own 50-50 chance, did he get his wish to be back with his two most loved people? I'll leave that for you all to ponder.
> 
> Please go share your love for Ruse's amazing artwork that inspired this piece, and thank you all so much for reading through this angst-fest. 
> 
> I've got one more heartbreaker fic coming up **_Watch Me Wither_** for the Convin Big Bang, and that should be up very soon! My last Big Bang fic of the year!
> 
> Come check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SkyeWillows) and [Tumblr](https://skyewillows.tumblr.com), or ask for my Discord to scream at me on there! All screams welcome!
> 
> I am a slave to all forms of feedback (kudos, subs, bookmarks and especially comments), so please feel free to indulge me.
> 
> Until my next fic, people!


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